


What Happened in 1985

by caprjcious, Stuttering_Boy



Series: What Happened In [1]
Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adorable Dustin Henderson, Anxious Eddie Kaspbrak, Asexual Stanley Uris, Badass Maxine “Max” Mayfield, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Broken Beverly Marsh, Dead Georgie Denbrough, Dramatic Mike Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper and Mike Wheeler in Love, Lucas Sinclair Is a Good Friend, Multi, Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Protective Eleven | Jane Hopper, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sad Bill Denbrough, Sad Stanley Uris, Sad Will Byers, Smart Dustin Henderson, Will Byers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprjcious/pseuds/caprjcious, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stuttering_Boy/pseuds/Stuttering_Boy
Summary: “Yeah. I guess we’re just the worst of the bunch, huh? You know, all the other kids in our grade just have to deal with the panic of what their next outfit is going to be for the Snowball or trying to get the best grades or trying to fall in love with one girl at school, but I guess we’ve seen the worst. We’ve lost our innocence, our immaturity, and our childhood has disappeared.”“I guess that’s why people say that childhood is such an important time in our lives.”OrMany children have gone missing in Derry and when one friend goes missing one night, four kids find out that there is more to their town than what meets the eye.





	1. The Prologue of a Dead Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caprjcious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprjcious/gifts).



> This story has been one of the longest fan fictions that I have created. This is the beginning of my revised version, which I think is one of the best after taking a break on it. 
> 
> This was once published before, but now it is a lot better through editing changes.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Everyone in Derry remembers the day of George Denbrough’s death. It was a solemn day, not only for the Denbroughs, but for the people that lived there. It happened on October 27th, 1984. The world in Derry was overcast with rain pouring down onto the entire town. It had been a few days after a flood had recently occurred. It had been twenty-seven years, in the year of 1957, that there had been something like this. It was the last time there was something as horrific as what lay on the street.    
  
A boy, about the age of eight, laid on the side of the street next to a sewer drain. His arm ripped from its socket, nevertheless, mysteriously gone from view as his yellow, raincoat was stained with his own blood. His chestnut eyes were wide, staring up at the gloomy sky as rain poured onto his pale face. His expression was in terror before turning calm. However, his lips were filled with terror, like the boy was going to scream. The blood from his arm spilled onto the road, floating down towards the sewer drain where a light snicker was heard. The voice was low, sounding like an evil laugh that a villain from a movie would assert from. The question still lingered, who was in the sewer drain?   
  
In the obscurity of the sewers, a clown that stood there. Its lips red like blood with lines that went down their eyes to the corners of their lips. The clown seemed happy, its golden eyes that seemed like the golden sun at sunset glowed from the darkness of the sewers. Their clothes were like the color of silver with orange buttons with ruffles by the ankles and wrists. Its hands were covered by white gloves with one stained with blood. In his white glove stained with blood, he held the arm of George Denbrough. The arm still had the yellow sleeve of the raincoat along with the hand holding a paper boat. On the paper boat, the words written “S.S. GEORGIE” in plain sight, blood splattered on the paper as the clown continued laughing. The paper boat slipped from the dead boy’s hand, falling into the water of the sewers before drifting off.  _ How was there joy in seeing a dead boy? _ You would believe, but there was something more into this clown as the clown left when the Sheriff came onto the scene.   
  


002

  
Bill Denbrough remembers sitting in his bed when his mother ran out of Bill’s home when the police called their house. He didn’t know who it was, he just heard the sound of his mother’s fingers stop playing on the piano when the phone rang. Her voice was talking to someone before rushing out of the house without saying a word to her older son. Bill was worried about who it could be. It had been an hour since George had left the house to play with the paper boat that Bill had made for him. His leg vibrated under his covers, filled with anxiety as he waited for his mother to come home.    
  
It wasn’t until his mother would come home with her makeup falling down on her face and her shirt stained with blood that he knew something was wrong. Her lip quivered as she walked into Bill’s room, looking as she tried to cover the sobs that tried to escape her throat. Bill felt felt nervous as she barely even looked at her son.    
  
“What’s w-wruh-wrong?” Bill asked. He knew that something had happened. Was it Dad? He thought. Or was it-   
  
“Bill, it’s George,” His mother told him.    
  
Bill’s entire body froze up at his brother’s name. His skin becoming cold as his eyes expanded in reply. What could have done this? Who could have done this? He thought in his mind, but he could never find the answer. It was unknown on who could have done this.    
  


003

  
Will Byers remembers the day of the murder when he sat next to Jonathan Byers, his older brother. The sound of rain hitting the roof while the sound of music was peaceful. His head bouncing up and down on the beat as he listened to a new song that his older brother wanted to listen to. The two sat in Jonathan’s bedroom, both of them sitting on the bed as the smell of faint must lingered. It reminded Will of an old house.    
  
The song with it’s catchy beat and the drums that seemed to make the boys’ heads go up and down. The singer began to sing, his voice seeming to be like ragged rocks.    
  
“Should I stay or should I go now?   
Should I stay or should I go now?   
If I go, there will be trouble   
And if I stay it will be double   
So come on and let me know   
Should I stay or should I go?”    
  
Jonathan turned to Will, his eyes looking at him with wonder. “So, what do you think?” His voice was calm. 

  
Will turned to his older brother, a smile on his face. “I like it,”   
  
Jonathan’s lips slowly formed into a smile. “Really?”    
  
“Yeah,” Will said. It was then that he felt his entire body feel cold. His face went pale, all the color that was on his face had disappeared in seconds. He didn’t know what he felt. What was he feeling? He thought.   
  
Jonathan’s expression became worried. He placed his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asked.    
  
Will inhaled and exhaled in deep breaths, trying to calm himself down as he had the urge to regurgitate. Slowly the urge and the feeling began to diminish. Spots of pink began to form on his cheeks. “I’m alright,” He told his brother, though he was confused on what had just happened.    
  
The only explanation to what he was feeling was that something was wrong. Something bad had happened, yet, he couldn’t quite explain why.   
  
Moments later, his mother would tell him around the same time that George Denbrough had died.    
  


004

  
The sound of the rain was calming to her as she leaned beside her windowsill. She could scent the calming rain that poured down outside. She sat down on her bed with her hair in a long ponytail that showed her beautiful, red hair. In her fingers grasped a cigarette, leaving a small puff of smoke that gradually disappeared in the air.

Smoking wasn’t a habit to Beverly Marsh. Whenever she was stressed, she would pull out her pack of cigarettes before lighting it. She hated feeling stressed. Why she was smoking? You might ask. Well, her father was helping the city by building a barrier to the rain that had almost destroyed Derry by the flood. If he would  have seen her smoking, she would feel his wrath. 

Beverly let out a sigh, the smoke exhaling from her lips before drawing another breath. She placed her rosy lips onto the stick, breathing in the smoke that consumed into her lungs before moving the cigarette from her lips. The cool air of the November breeze moved into the room, giving her a slight chill down her spine. Without her cigarette, she would have been freezing, but the burning stick gave her warm smoke in her lungs that made her feel comfortable.

She exhaled, not knowing what had happened. She knew it was wrong though, it was like all the kids in Derry knew something. Kids always go with their gut and, consequently, something horrible was happening.  _ What happened?  _ She thought in her mind. Maybe she was delirious for thinking this way. Hell, she was the unnatural girl that no one liked because every person thought she had sexual relations with many boys at school. She didn’t like the boys that they alleged. She  would rather kiss a girl than have sex with those boys at school.

“I must be going insane,” Beverly muttered, her words, letting out the warm smoke.

Before she could even begin to comprehend what she had thought, she heard the door open as burdensome footsteps came into the small apartment. “Bev? Are you home?” A voice proclaimed. It was rough. The voice sounded exhausted, but she knew who it was.

_ Fuck.  _ Beverly told herself in her mind. Quickly, she threw the cigarette out the window, going into the cold, sodden world. Immediately, she closed her window, blocking the sound of rain to be the pitter-patter of the roof. If he found out what she did. . .oh, she would be in so much trouble. She hid her pack of Winstons in one of the drawers, closing it shut quickly so that he wouldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’m home,” She called out. 

“How are you, Bevvy?” His voice told her from across the apartment as Bev’s spine shudder. She never liked that name, but she never told him that. 

“I’m alright,” Beverly told him. “How-how are you?” Her vocalization became louder at the second try of her question for her father to hear her.

“Well, I’m soaked, Bevvy. I’ll be in the bathroom to wash up,” Her father told her, ending the conversation as his pace went to the bathroom, nevertheless, made out the door closing. 

Bev let out a sigh. “That was so close,” She sputtered to herself, talking about her misty cigarettes and not what her father does to her when she comes home. 

 

005

 

The boy in the basement sat on the couch writing in a notebook. His hair was curly, black and, ordinarily, the clothes he wore was a striped polo shirt and khakis. The basement was his way of being alone, moreover, his favorite spot in the house. It was the only place where he (and his friends) could be alone from everyone else in the house. 

The boy named, Mike Wheeler, was thinking of ideas for the next Dungeons and Dragons game. He wrote in his notebook about a child in danger and the party was tasked to save him. Moreover, it was unnatural and he didn’t know how he had gotten the idea, but he thought it could work. His hand wrote on the paper in neat scribbles, looking like cursive as he wrote. He couldn’t actually find out what number the dice would roll so every time there was a point where a character needed to choose a decision, he chose an exciting or horrible result for it. It was pretty genius in his mind, but it took too much time because he wrote too much about detail.

As he was stuck in his thoughts, he heard someone run towards the door of the basement and quickly open it. He looked up, seeing the person who opened the door, stand there with their silhouette towering down the steps to the stairs.

“Mike, come up here!” His mother exclaimed at him. 

Mike looked up, seeing that his mother was staring at him. “What? Why?” He asked. 

“Michael,” Mrs. Wheeler called him, her voice threatening him to go up the stairs or else there would be horrible consequences. “You need to come up here, alright?” 

Mike groaned, closing his notebook and dropping it on the couch. “Fine,” He replied to his mother. He stood up, letting out a sigh from his lips as he walked towards the steps, smelling the aroma of his mother’s homemade cooking. He walked up the steps of the basement and slowly going up the stairs. He reached the door of the basement and opened the door coming out of the basement.

“Now, what do you want?” Mike asked, walking to the kitchen.

His mother gently placed the spoon on the counter, turning around to see her son. The children of the Wheelers, except for Holly, all looked like their mother in her brown eyes, dark hair, and pretty appearance. Mrs. Wheeler walked towards her son, her heels hitting the tile floor as her arms wrapped around his small body in a hug. 

“Mom, what is this for?” He asked quietly. Surprised that she would even hug him. Ordinarily, he would be embarrassed if this would have happened with him and his friends, but he didn’t know what was going on.

“A six year old was found dead with his arm ripped off about an hour ago, Mike. His mother will never be able to hug her son and I just needed to hug you,” She explained in a whisper. “If you know something is wrong, promise me that you won’t get yourself hurt,” 

“What?” 

“Mike, just promise me,” His mother’s voice was sincere, almost like a beg for him to do it.

Mike was quiet before saying. “I promise,” 

It felt odd to Mike that he was promising to his mother, like there was something suspicious going on in his town that he didn’t know about. Did the adults know something that he did not? He thought. By the time he and his mother had separated from the hug, he had already forgotten what he had just thought, giving a goodbye to his mother before going down the steps of the basement.  
  


 

006

 

Stan Uris, the only Jewish boy in Derry, was at the Temple with his father. They were the only two in the temple, alone. The plans of the Bar Mitzvah were planning to be ready for the young, blonde boy in August, though it would be less than a year before the occasion would commence. He sat in his father’s office, his eyes gazing off into the distance of the window as his father began to talk about his special day while the sound of rain echoed throughout the temple. 

To be honest, Stan didn’t want to do the Bar Mitzvah. He didn’t want to go into his father’s footsteps to take care of the Temple when his father died. He wanted to escape from Derry and have a life, maybe doing something about birds. He always had a fascination with birds. His thoughts told him, his eyes staring off at the rain that poured out from outside. 

“Stanley,” His father’s voice boomed out of his thoughts, making the boy quickly turn on his father’s gaze. Stan’s blonde, curly hair bounced as he turned his head at his father. 

“Uh, y-yes?” Stan asked. His voice was soft and nervous. He had been daydreaming in his thoughts for so long that he hadn’t heard what his father had said. If he was Richie, he would have already swore multiple words inside his head.

His father didn’t notice that Stan had not been listening to him. “For your Bar Mitzvah, you need to give an excellent speech,” He told him. 

“Okay,” Stan said softly. “What should I say?”

“You figure it out. I want to be impressed,” His father told him. 

Stan’s head lowered towards his hands, nodding in agreement as he heard the sound of rain pour from the roof. He wished he wasn’t in the situation where he was. He wished that he could deal with the world ending than this. He had just turned thirteen. He had no time for making speeches.

 

007

 

Dustin Henderson was watching reality tv with his mother, he would never admit it with his friends since they would probably kill him for watching reality tv, but he enjoyed spending time with his mother. 

Then there was a flash on the TV. “ **Breaking News”** was written on the screen and flashed to a news reporter. The news reporter, who was named Phil Swift, stood in the rain. Right behind him, there were the words “CRIME SCENE” written in yellow tape around a small area on the side of the street. The reporter was calm, though very serious. “We bring you a tragedy, the town of Derry. George Denbrough, a eight year old child, has been found dead with his arm ripped off,” 

Dustin felt his stomach feel nauseous, like he was ready to throw up from the thoughts of the child with the missing arm traveled inside his mind. 

“This is horrible,” His mother sighed. 

“The cause of death is unknown, but if there can be an autopsy that it might show how the boy died. The Sheriff believes that they might have a murderer on their hands,” 

“Now back to your program,” The reporter told them, and the program that he and his mother were watching was now back on the screen. 

“Dustin,” His mother told him. “If there is a murderer out there, make sure that you are extra careful being alone,”

“I’ll do my best, mom,” Dustin said softly. 

“No, there is no doing,” His mother told him almost strictly. “If you meet this murderer, run. I want you safe and not dead,” 

Dustin would remember those words. “I’ll run if I see something off,” 

“Good,” his mother would tell him in a soft smile. 

Then they continued watching what was on TV. 

 

008

 

Unlike the others, Max Mayfield lived in California at the time. She would never see or hear about the murder of George Denbrough. 

 

009

 

When the death of George Denbrough happened, Richie Tozier laid in his bed with headphones in his ears that played loud music. Richie looked very similar to his cousin with the freckles, dark hair, and same pink lips, but their personality and style were entirely different. It was the reason why the two both hated each other, or at least Richie did. Richie wore glasses and wore clothes that made him seem like he was trying to have attention, but, consequently, he was the most annoying person in the Derry Middle School.

Richie’s cheeks flushed in a pink color as he lay on his messy bed. His glasses were placed on the nightstand as his eyes were closed. He was in peace just listening to the Beatles while his feet moved up and down to the beat. The song that he played was a love song and worked especially well with what he was feeling at the moment. 

He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but it was distinctive to him. He felt happiness whenever he listened to this song because it reminded him of a person that he knew. He didn’t know why, nor how he felt this way. This person just made him feel like he wanted to be with him every second just to see him. 

He would find out in an hour that the boy died when his mother would come in.

 

010

 

Unlike, Richie, Eddie Kaspbrak sat alone on his bed. The house was quiet except for the sound of his mother watching something on the TV that felt distant in his room. Eddie liked how it was so quiet that you could hear the sound of the rain pouring, usually he heard the sound in his bedroom when everything was quiet. It was calming and nice. 

He was reading a comic that he had gotten from Richie since he couldn’t read comics because his mother thought they would give him dark ideas, but he was reading about Spider-Man since he loved the superhero. He related to Peter Parker since Peter was a slight outsider, but he developed superpowers and used them for good. He would do that if he had superpowers, but since he was sick, he would probably be a horrible superhero.

“Eddie-Bear?” His mother called from downstairs, her voice calling out from downstairs. He quickly hid the comic under his pillow.

“Yes, mommy?” He called out from his bedroom.

“Can you please come down here?” Her voice told him. He noticed that her voice seemed to sound solemn than bored. Maybe something happened? Eddie thought in his mind, hoping that it wasn’t that he needed to go the ER just because of one single difference in his body.

Eddie got out of his bed and walked to the exit of his bedroom. Now hearing the sound of rain begin to fade away as he was further away from his window. 

He walked down the stairs and once his feet made to the bottom of the steps. He went into the living room where he mother sat in her lay-z-boy. He said “Yes, mom?”

His mother’s eyes never glanced at him, her eyes blankly staring at the TV. She never even bothered looking at her own son as he saw the brightness of the TV hit her face in the darkness of the living. “Bill’s brother just died,” She told him.

Eddie felt a cold sensation when she told him that. His body was cold, shivering as goosebumps appeared on his arms. “What?” He said. 

His mother gave a small glance at her son, but her eyes came back on the TV. “Bill Denbrough’s brother, George, just passed away about an hour ago,” She said blankly. 

Sadness conjured in Eddie’s mind, feeling heartbreak for his friend. Bill and he had been childhood friends since kindergarten. Eddie knew how much Bill loved his brother and for him to hear this? Bill had to be devastated. 

Eddie asked his mother. “How did he die?” His voice was soft.

“Shock and blood loss,” Ms. Kaspbrak told Eddie. “His arm was ripped from him,”

Her last sentence made Eddie’s right arm feel an excruciating pain. The pain slowly disappeared as he felt more numb at his thoughts of seeing George with a missing arm, lying dead. 

“I should talk to Bill,” Eddie told his mother. “He might need someone to talk to,

“Wait,” Ms. Kaspbrak told her son. “Just give him time. He did that when you were grieving for your father,” 

Eddie’s father had passed away when he was in second grade of lung cancer. Bill had been the one out of the three boys to give Eddie some alone time when his father died.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Eddie told his mother. “In the afternoon,” 

“Good,” Ms. Kaspbrak told him. 

Eddie left towards the stairs, knowing that his best friend was going to be hurting when he would call him tomorrow, but he was alright with that because that is what childhood friends do for one another.

 

011

 

The only sound that Lucas Sinclair heard was the sound of the arcade machine and the sound of coins going into machines. He was alone in the Arcade that was next to The Aladdin, the main theatre in Derry. He worked a day for doing chores and helping his neighbors for money, and now he can finally spend it on playing games in the arcade. The smell of greasy pizza and sweat from teenage boys who occupied the entire arcade like a bottle of AXE deodorant. It was the first smell that hit you when you got into the arcade and never left the scent on your nose. 

Right now, his eyes were focused on setting the highest score on Dig Dug with the highest score being by someone named “Richer”. Already, this “Richer” guy had 730,098 points, about more points than what Dustin or Lucas could achieve. “Shit,” He said when he saw that he needed to get more points ahead to accomplish the high score. 

This had been Lucas’ third try of the game, putting the quarter in the slot as the sound of arcade machine made a sound that was ready for him to press play. He placed his hands on the controller and the buttons, pressing the play button once he was ready to play. 

It was then that he began to focus, his hope was that he could get a better score and beat this “Richer” guy, but there was always that doubt in him. 

“Fucking shit!” Lucas exclaimed, slamming his hand on the machine in an act of anger as he lost again. He checked at the time and it was 4:05.

“Are you alright?” A small voice came from behind him. He turned, seeing that it was a young boy. The boy had blonde hair, his eyes a pretty blue, and wore a yellow raincoat with his hood down. He was holding a red balloon (Lucas saw that the words on the balloon wrote “I in his left hand and Lucas noticed that the boy was smiling too much, like he was forcing himself to smile. It disturbed Lucas. 

Lucas felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. If this kid told his parents that he swore, he would be screwed. “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Lucas gave the small boy a weak smile. 

The boy nodded. “I’m Georgie,” The boy proclaimed with a soft smile.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Lucas,” He held out his hand for him to shake.

The small boy seemed to resist his hand. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you, Lukey,” Georgie said, his head turning towards the door. 

Lucky was what his sister called him. He  _ hated _ that nickname. Lucas nodded, trying to ignore his thoughts and said softly. “Alright. Bye Georgie,” 

“Goodbye,” The boy said softly. “Enjoy the game,” 

Lucas turned back to his arcade game, seeing that once he had turned his back to see that the game he was once playing had now disappeared. The arcade game that was presented before him was called “IT”. The background showed moving rain! Lucas was surprised about that because it would take years for that to happen. Lucas saw that he would need a quarter to play and as he was curious, he pulled out one of the quarters in his pocket and inserted it into the slot. 

He heard the quarter fall down into the machine, the game saying now that he could play it with the same button before. He pressed on the button, feeling like his curiosity was pushing him to find out why Dig Dug had changed to  _ Fun with Pennywise  _ just by a conversation with a seven year old.

The starting screen disappeared, the sound of cheerful music began to play. He saw a young boy with blonde hair and brown eyes sitting next to a boy taller (and probably older) next to him. Words on the bottom of the screen began to appear. It wrote:

Two brothers sat alone in the bedroom. The sound of the rain falling down outside, made everything peaceful. 

Then the picture faded and came back with a different photo. It was the oldest brother, making a paper boat with paper that Lucas believes to be sketchbook paper. 

The oldest brother was sick and as the youngest wanted to play outside, the oldest made him a paper boat so the water could make it float. 

The picture turned to the young boy, looking almost like the boy he had met before, except his eyes were brown with a soft smile on his face. The older brother looked at his younger brother, his eyes, giving concern as he placed the paper boat in the younger brother’s hands. 

“Be careful,George,” The oldest told him before he would start coughing. “I will,” The George promised him, leaving the room before leaving the house into the rain.

The picture faded, revealing the part where Lucas could now play the game. The youngest brother now stood near the sidewalk on the road, rain pouring down on his yellow coat as in his hands held the paper boat that his older brother had given him. It reminded Lucas of those medieval, computer games that Mr. Clarke showed them that gave them a story and then you had to figure out what you had to do. 

The game showed a montage of a boy carrying a paper boat in the street. Lucas used the controller to move around the street, turning back to the house to see the words written by the younger brother.

I don’t want to go back inside. I have spent most of my day stuck in there. 

The words disappeared and Lucas turned the boy around to the street. He made the boy walked down the street to his left, making him stop at it as the words appeared on the bottom of the screen.

 

Do you want to put down the boat? 

*Yes*     No

Press the red button for your answer.

 

Lucas pressed on the button, pressing yes. The screen faded, going into the story of the game. Lucas saw the young boy place the paper boat and saw that it had written “S.S. Georgie” on pixel letters. The boy placed down the boat into the water, wobbling onto the rushing water that ran down through the streets.

 

The young boy smiled widely, his eyes shining as he ran down the streets with his boat. The boat quickly streamed away down the sewer area, so fast that it was difficult for the boy to catch up. Lucas saw the boy quickly run down the streets, trying to catch up to the boat and hit his head on a sign post. The boy fell onto the road, letting out a whimper. The boy quickly sat up, seeing that the boat was now far from his gaze. The boy stood up immediately, running towards the boat with panic. 

“No!” The young brother exclaimed. The boat went into the direction of the sewers before disappearing into the dark slit of the sewer drain.

The boy quickly went to the slit of the drain, hoping to see the boat. 

“Bill is going to kill me!” The young boy proclaimed. 

Lucas watched the scene unfold. His eyes, wondering why he was even looking at this.

Before he could try to find it, when he searched in the darkness of the sewer drains, his eyes were met with another.

The eyes that Lucas saw were gold, shimmering in the darkness of the sewer drain like they were of gold itself. 

The boy yelped moving away from the drain. As he did, the gold eyes that the boy had once seen were now blue as it revealed the monster that he thought was a clown.

Lucas noticed that once the clown appeared that the eyes now turned blue, like he was doubting his perception of what he was seeing. Did he see the gold eyes? He thought. 

“Hiya Georgie!” The clown said. The clown seemed strange to the young boy, saying his name when he had never met the clown.

Lucas thought that was unnatural that the clown knew his name. 

The clown and the boy began talking while the rain poured out. The boy found out that the circus had washed into the sewer drains. 

Lucas saw the two laughing and having fun as they were talking, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he had around the clown.

“You know,” the clown told him. The clown’s hands seemed to be fumbling with something, like he was going to reveal it to Georgie. “I found a paper boat here before you came. It’s a very nice boat. Is it yours?” The clown asked.

The screen turned towards the boy as his eyes lit up.

“Yes, it is,” The boy said with a smile. “I thought I lost it forever,” 

 

“Would you want it back?” The clown asked. 

 

*Yes*      No

 

Lucas thought no immediately, feeling like this boy shouldn’t even be with this clown in the first place. What if the clown would sexually assault him or something? Lucas moved the button to press no.

 

Yes      *No*

 

_ That was the wrong answer.  _

 

“What?” Lucas asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. He knew something was going to happen, whether he liked it or not. He moved to yes, pressing the button as the game continued.

“Yes, please,” the young boy said. 

“Then take it,” the clown said. 

 

Should Georgie take it?

 

*Yes*      No

 

Lucas tried to turn the controller to ‘no’, but the controller was jammed, like it wouldn’t even let him say no. Lucas was nervous. He knew something was going to happen as the adrenaline pumped in his veins. 

Slowly, he pressed the button to ‘yes’. Nervous, to see what would happen. He kept his hand on the controller, wondering if he needed to play the game. 

The young boy was nervous, but he wanted his boat. Slowly, he pulled his arm to grab the paper boat, but his hand was snatched by the teeth of the clown. 

The screen went black along with a scream that seemed so real to him. Lucas was worried. What just happened?

When the screen disappeared out of the black, Lucas’ eyes saw a horror that he would have nightmares about. Lucas say the young boy lying down on the road, his face being rained on by the rain as his eyes seemed dead. The screen began to glitch when Lucas saw that the boy’s arm was ripped clean to the rest of his body. The boy that was named Georgie was now dead. 

“Holy shit!” Lucas replied with fear, backing away in terror.

The screen turned black, the game was back to Dig Dug, but it had balloons flying all over the place and blood on the screen. “What the hell?” He asked. 

The screen seemed to be showing words and showing dead kids like the kids that died in the Ironworks on Easter with the headless Robert Duhay. It was like a horror movie that only showed jump scares. Terrified, Lucas bumped into the arcade machine behind him, his heart pounding in his chest. As he wanted to run away. 

The screen of the arcade abruptly stopped, going black as white words appeared on the black screen. 

 

Here is your prize.

 

Once the sentence was made, the slot where tickets were supposed to erupt from, spurted out a coin. It rolled in the direction of Lucas, hitting his shoes as they twirled making an invisible sphere before falling flat on the ground. Lucas was a little scared of what it was after what he had just seen, but curiosity overpowered him. He kneeled down and grabbed the prize. It was a silver, cold coin that had a realistic drawing of the clown that bit that boy in the game he just played. The coin had written around the face of the clown, saying “Fun With Pennywise”. 

Lucas was utterly confused. Who was Pennywise? He thought. Was it the clown? 

He needed to get out of the arcade and go home. He was going to play until The Palace closes, but he wanted to go home after the horror he just saw today. 

 

***

 

“Mom, I’m home!” Lucas exclaimed when he entered into his warm house, putting his raincoat on the hanger. It was about half and hour after the destruction of what he had seen from the arcade. He had told the manager about the game immediately after, but didn’t seem to believe Lucas as he just saw that it was broken. So, after Lucas feeling like he was imaging the impossible, he went home, hoping that he could just sleep the nightmare of a reality away from him. 

“I didn’t think you would be here until dinner,” His mom said, hearing his words from earlier as she was in the living room. She held a laundry basket in her hand. 

“I was, but something came up and I’m now home,” Lucas told his mom, walking towards the steps of the stairs.

His mother’s voice echoed towards the stairs. “What came up?”

“Nothing, just the flood was troubling me,” 

“Oh well, did you hear about the child dying from his arm amputated near one of the sewers drains in Derry?” His mother asked, folding the laundry that was in the basket.

Lucas’ face turned pale, reminding him of what he had seen earlier. “What was his name?” He asked, hoping it wasn’t the name he had heard before. 

“George Denbrough,” 

_Georgie? Oh fuck!_ Lucas thought. “When did he die?” Lucas asked, still trying to keep calm. He wondered if he was the last person that saw George Denbrough.

“Around two, why do you ask?” His mother asked, folding laundry while she was watching tv.

“Because he’s a n-nerd,” Erica said, but he still saw her puffy cheeks like she was crying. Did she know Georgie? Lucas thought.

“I was just wondering,” Lucas said. He was at the arcade for four hours and, moreover, he saw the boy at four before he saw the boy’s arm ripped off on the screen of Dig Dug. Was he delirious? He saw him after his death! That isn’t possible, unless he’s a ghost. No,  _ ghosts aren’t real. _ He concluded.

October 27th became a day that Lucas tried to forget.

 

012

 

The last of the eleven, stood in darkness. Unlike Will and Bill, who had felt the sensation that there had been something wrong, she had seen it. 

This girl, you might wonder about who it was, was a girl named Jane, or at least that was her alias. She had short, unruly hair that was brown in curls lightly covered her cheeks and ears. She wore clothes that were oversized or worn out.

She stood in the darkness, her socks touching the shallow water that seemed to never even feel like it was there on her skin. She didn’t know why she came here. All she knew was that she had felt something was wrong and that she needed to check it out. It had already been a year since Jane had moved here and surprisingly, she had never felt what she was feeling. This surge of pain in her arm that never seemed to get away. She felt like something bad was going to happen. She always sensed things and, nevertheless, she knew that things were going to happen. She didn’t know if it was going to amazing. She didn’t know if it was going to be awful.

So there she was in the darkness that she hadn’t entered since. . . A while. It had been a long time since she used it. She hadn’t used it since she was very young and she didn’t remember how long it had been since she used it. 

When she opened her eyes in the darkness, in the distance she saw someone. This someone wore a yellow raincoat, rain drops gently falling onto the coat and disappearing once it left the person’s body. She was confused about who this was, only seeing the back of the person as the person walked away from her with a happy giggle that echoed around her.

“Hello?” She asked, her voice echoing through the darkness. The person never heard her, slowly disappearing from her view. Quickly before the figure would disappear from view, she ran towards the figure, her footsteps never making as sound as she ran through the shallow water. She was confused.  _ Who was this? What was going on? _ She conjured in her mind. 

Before she could even notice what was going on, she found herself immediately behind the figure. She began to slow down her pace, letting out heaving breaths as she stopped her run. 

The figure was leaning down over a small slit in the sidewalk to see a figure in there.  _ How could a person be in there? _ She thought before she remembered that there had just been a flood that came into Derry a few days ago.

“Do you like a balloon Georgie?” The figure in the small slit replied. The makeup on its face and the way it looked seemed to her like it was unreal. 

_ This is a boy.  _ She thought. She turned herself to the side, seeing the two faces of the child and the person in the slit. The boy in the yellow coat had pretty, amber eyes and blonde hair that barely touched his forehead. The boy was smiling along with the person in the small slit. 

“Yes, on my birthday party last year I had a big one,” The boy exclaimed that Jane would believe was Georgie.

“Well, my favorite it part is when you pop it,”

“My favorite part is when you breathe in the helium,” Georgie told the man in the slit. 

The man began to laugh and the boy began to laugh with him. The man quickly stopped his laugh unnaturally, stopping so that the boy would stop too. The man’s blue eyes gazed at the boy. “You know, I found a boat here a few minutes ago. Is it yours?” The man showed the paper boat with the words, S.S. Georgie wrote on the boat. 

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Yes, it is. I thought I lost it,”

“Well would you want it back?” The clown replied, his blue eyes shimmering in the darkness. 

“Yes, please,” Georgie muttered, his voice soft. 

Jane could already feel that something was wrong.  _ Please don’t touch it. _ She hoped for Georgie.

“Then take it,” The clown told him. 

“I’m not supposed to take things from strangers,” Georgie proclaimed. 

“But it’s yours correct?” The man told him. “Then it isn’t mine, but yours. I’m just giving it to you since you lost it,”

The boy was quiet. Jane could see that he was pondering on what to do.

“Billy’s going to kill you,” The clown festered. 

The boy was still and quiet.

“Come on take it,” the clown said.

Georgie was cautious. His hand hovering towards inside the slit, but she knew something bad was going to happen. When Georgie’s arm went into the slit, she saw the clown grab it before showing millions of teeth that were small or large that reminded her of a shark. The teeth grabbed onto the boy’s arm, ripping the arm clean from it’s socket as Georgie’s arm had left his body. Georgie screamed in terror and pain as he immediately tried to get away, crawling with one arm away from the monster in the sewers. Jane could see the tears from the boy down his face with the loss of the boy’s arm with blood dripping into the shallow water. 

Jane was terrified at what she was seeing. Of course, she had seen some horrible things in her past, but what she saw that day, changed her view on everything. She would have sleepless nights about the boy in the yellow raincoat, screaming for her help before disappearing into a puff of dull, yellow smoke. 

As she stood there frozen in terror, she saw a white gloved hand come out from the slit, going towards the boy that was sobbing and crying. She knew that the thing in there was going to kill him. What could she do? She thought. 

“STOP!” She screamed, her voice echoing through the darkness before fading into quiet. 

To her surprise, the hand stopped its movements. Jane quickly looked at the man in the slit and saw that the man was staring directly at her. Was he actually seeing her? She thought. She could see that the blue eyes that she had seen changed into the color of a golden sunset. 

This man, or thing, gave her a smile along with a cackle that gave shivers down her spine. The man gave her a wave with Georgie’s dead arm as a sign of goodbye. 

Before she could do more, the boy with the lost arm and the man who held it was now gone in a puff of smoke. Tears pricked at her eyes, falling onto her knees as she was so terrified at what she had seen.  _ Was that real? _ She asked herself.  _ Did I just see a child die?  _ She began sobbing, replaying the incident of what she had seen over and over in her head with the screams of the child begging so someone to help. 

She wondered what that  _ thing  _ was.  _ Was It even human? No, it couldn’t be. No human has teeth as big as It did. _ She told herself. 

This would be the first time one of the eleven would call the monster of Derry,  _ It _ .  
  



	2. The One Who Disappeared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a storm brews in Derry on a Sunday night, Will Byers finds something that he did not want to meet.

_ September 6th, 1985 _

_ One Year Later. . . _

_ Derry, Maine _

 

The Wheeler's basement was something that was special to the friends below. There were boxes and boxes of things from children's childhoods. Moreover, things that the son's parents had from when they were younger tucked in some of them. A worn couch that the boy who lived here remembered gravely being in the living room, a desk that used to be next to the fireplace upstairs, an old lamp with the light bulb coloring the wall look orange, and the Christmas lights that shined brightly above the desk were the only characteristics that the four friends adored about the basement.   
  
This was the place that the boys came here almost every weekend. This was their own lair. They don't remember how they had decided to be there. Maybe it was from how loud they were and Mrs. Wheeler couldn't take it? Whatever it was, they loved being in the basement.   
  
The basement for these four boys was simple; Dungeons and Dragons. This game had changed their lives when Mike Wheeler got it from Lucas Sinclair for Christmas. Now, almost every weekend, they played D&D to fantasize about their lives as heroes. In reality, they never believed to be heroes because they were all nerds, the losers of manliness.    
  
"There is something lurking in the darkness. Something hungry for blood," The boy with black, curly hair that touched his cheeks exclaimed in a serious voice, his eyes glaring at the three boys around him. The boy’s name was Mike Wheeler.    
  
On Mike's right was Lucas Sinclair, his loyal friend who moved to Derry after the divorce of his parents. He had dark skin and brown eyes. He had a specialty for being one of the most bullied kids in school because of his race since the Hanlons (another African-American family) had their son going to a Catholic School.   
  
On his left were Dustin Henderson, his chubby appearance and his disappearing two front teeth from his disability made people believe that he wasn't the smartest kid in his class. However, since the beginning of summer vacation, Dustin had finally gotten his front teeth, making him almost a normal kid if it wasn't for his wild personality and his abrasive swearing. Dustin had blue eyes and curly, maple brown hair that contrasted well with his slightly tan skin (probably because he went to Florida this summer) and his usual red, blue, and white cap that he wore all the time out of school. 

  
Notwithstanding from the middle of Lucas and Dustin was Will Byers, Mike's childhood, best friend. Will was small for his age with maple, brown hair that was dressed in a bowl cut. His beautiful, hazel eyes and expression made him look pure and innocent, which he was. Will never swore, did anything bad, or be mean towards others. He was the good kid in the group, the person that most of them wanted to be.

  
  
"What is it?" Will asked in a curious voice, his eyes staring at Mike with the excitement of being the cleric of the group. Mike liked intriguing the group when playing because he was the Dungeon Master, the wielder of the entire game.

  
  
Dustin turned to the others, worry in his eyes. "We're so fucking screwed if it's the Mind Flayer," Dustin sputtered.

  
  
"It's not the Mind Flayer," Lucas exclaimed, a sigh of irritation coming out his lips. "It's most likely going to be the Demogorgon or something,"

  
  
"Which is also shit for us, Lucas!" Dustin exclaimed with an annoyed tone.

  
  
Did Mike say that Dustin swore a lot? It reminded him a lot of his cousin, Richie.  _ Ugh, Richie. _ Mike thought. Mike tried to forget about the name of his annoying cousin once he thought of him.

  
  
"The monster comes out through the darkness, its' golden eyes staring at you as it is-" Mike exclaimed as he slammed a figure on the board, shaking the table dangerously. The figure was a tall figure with the head of a spider and somewhat of an octopus. "The Mind Flayer!"

  
  
The three boys erupt in a groan, knowing that this would be their end. Mike tried to hide the smile that tried to emerge on his face as he was excited about what would happen. 

 

"I told you so!" Dustin yelled at Lucas. “I fucking knew it that the Mind Flayer would come!”

  
"Shut up, Dustin!" Lucas snapped in annoyance, his eyes glaring right at his friend, but they knew he was nervous and embarrassed that Dustin was right. 

  
"The Mind Flayer is ready to attack! Will, what's your action?!" Mike exclaimed in a loud, sonorous voice, becoming impatient with his two, other friends by their bickering.

  
  
"I don't know!" Will said in a panic. None of the boys had beaten the Mind Flayer and Mike wanted to try it out and see if something special would happen, but in Dustin’s words “He was evil.”

  
  
"Use your protection spell, Will!" Dustin exclaimed to Will, his voice cracking since he was experiencing puberty like the rest of them. 

  
  
"No! You should fireball it!" Lucas yelled louder than Dustin.   
  


“Will would have to roll a thirteen or higher, Lucas! We can’t do that,” Dustin argued.

 

“But fireballing the Mind Flayer will let me use my bow!” Lucas bickered. 

  
"Protection Spell!" Dustin yelled out. 

  
  
"Fireball!" Lucas intervened. 

  
  
"The Mind Flayer rolls its hands towards Will the Wise readying his powers!" Mike interrupted the two boys, giving his attention to Will. 

  
Will felt himself panic, holding the 20-sided die in his hand and yelled. "Fireball!" He threw the die onto the table. The boys all watched as the die hit the Mind Flayer, letting it fall to the ground before rolling to the edge of the table. It flew past the edge of the table, falling onto the ground and disappearing into the unknown of the basement floor.   
  


"Shit!" Mike exclaimed. 

 

“Fucking shit!” Lucas yelled in reply, standing up. 

 

The four boys stood up, getting out of their chairs as their voices echoed through the basement. The rushed around the room looking for the die in a panic. 

 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Dustin exclaimed in panic as the boys frequently searched around the basement floor to find the die. Their expressions were filled with worry, accordingly Will because Will the Wise could be killed from the number. He didn’t want Will the Wise to die. 

  
The sound of the basement door opened as a yell called out from above the basement. It was Mike's mom, Mrs. Wheeler, looking at her son and his friends at retaliation on what they were doing. "Mike, it's nine at night! You all need to go home,"   
  


"Come on, Mom!" Mike exclaimed, begging at his mom. Quickly, he ran up the stairs. "Just a few minutes, please! It took us weeks to do this campaign!"   


  
Will heard Mike’s voice disappear from his hearing as his voice muffled upstairs. His eyes searched around for the die along with his friends, looking under the table to find the die to see that the blue, 20-sided die was placed underneath his own chair. It stayed still in place like it had been there accordingly.  _ What? _ He thought in his head.  _ How could that be? _ He picked up the die, seeing the number shown plainly in his fingers. The number was written in a bold font which Will sighed. It was a  _ one _ .   
  


Will knew his demise and turned to Dustin and Lucas who were trying to look for the die. "Guys, I found it," He said in disappointment, holding the die in his fingers. He knew that Will the Wise was now dead, dead from the powers of the Mind Flayer.   


  
"What? How could it be there?” Dustin asked. “I thought I searched under the table and chairs,” He told Will.

 

Will shrugged in reply, not knowing what to say. “I don’t know. I just found it under my chair,” He explained. 

 

“What is the number?" Lucas asked as he walked towards Will. His eyes turned to the number that lay in his fingers. "Fuck," He exhaled.    


  
"Oh no. Please let it not be a one," Dustin whined, his hands wrapped around the cap that he usually wore. 

  
"It's one," Will sighed. 

  
"So, we lost," Lucas sighed as he looked at his two friends.   


  
Footsteps were heard down the stairs to reveal Mike. He stumbled down the steps, his eyes looking at them with sadness. "Sorry guys," He said softly. "You have to leave," 

  
002   
  


The storm that surrounded Derry now let down its rain, pouring down on everything outside except for the inside of the garage. The garage door opened, revealing the four boys that stood inside were two cars and more boxes were placed. Mike stood in the garage while the boys were getting on their bikes since this was his home. Will was putting on his windbreaker, flinching at the flash of lightning that came towards the trees. Thunder growled in the distance, storming as the pouring rain ran towards the sewer drains on the street.    
  


Dustin gave a smile to Mike and Will. “See you tomorrow. Bye Will and Mikey!” He said, waving goodbye to the two boys as he went outside into the dark storm. 

 

“Shut up Dustin!” Mike exclaimed. Will knew that Mike hated that name because it was what his cousin called him whenever they spoke to one another. 

 

“Bye Mike and Will,” Lucas told the two boys, waving his hand as he biked down the concrete path into the rain and thunder. 

 

“See you, Lucas!” Will exclaimed, waving his hand to tell him goodbye. 

 

Will Byers zipped his jacket, his eyes watching as the two boys biked home. He grabbed on his aged bike that was worn down after using it too many times to count since he had gotten it for his tenth birthday. He knew that Jonathan was probably off work, but sometimes Jonathan would take extra time to obtain more money for his family. 

 

He looked at Mike, whose eyes looked off into the distance which was staring directly at the forest that was placed across the street. Thunder growled in the distance, sounding like it was ready to swallow Derry whole like it was a monster.  _ Oh! _ That reminded him of that he needed to tell the news about what happened. 

  
"Hey, Mike?" Will asked softly. Mike's head quickly turned around, his mopey hair curling towards his face just like the freckles that danced them.   


  
"Yeah?" Mike asked quietly. Will saw that Mike seemed dazed, probably from the comment that Dustin said because he knew that Mike despised his cousin more than Henry Bowers. 

  
"It was a one," Will said softly in defeat. "It got me,"   


  
Mike brows furrowed, turning back to Will. "The Mind Flayer?"   


  
"Yes," Will said. He placed his foot on the pedal. 

 

They were quiet, hearing the sound of rain pour down on the roof of Mike’s garage. 

 

“Will, try to be careful out there,” Mike explained. “There is still the murderer in Derry. It’s been a few weeks since the last victim was found,” 

 

He knew what Mike was talking about. The last victim was Jennifer Hayes, a girl in school that Will had always felt something for when he was in first grade. For Will, it was a small crush that had disappeared by the time he found his eyes looking over at someone else, but moreover, he didn’t like talking about his love life. 

 

“I’ll be careful, Mike. Don’t worry,” Will said, giving him a comforting smile. “Well, see you tomorrow,” He pushed on the pedal. His hands grasping the bars of his bike as he began to pedal down into the storm. The rain hitting his windbreaker and the rest of his body as he felt slightly cold as he left the Wheeler home. 

 

“Call me on the super-com if you need me! Channel nine!” Mike exclaimed from behind, making Will laugh as a soft smile came on his face. 

 

“Alright, Mike!” Will told him before he went into the road. His bike pedaling down the concrete roadway onto the road of Maple Street. 

  
Will turned left, going towards the direction of his home as the thunder brewed around him. Will quickly biked down the road as the rain poured on his clothes, but he tried not to be in a melancholy mood while he was biking. He hummed the song that his brother had shown him the day before his parents became divorced and money was so scarce that he was now wearing Jonathan’s middle school clothes. It was also the song that he had heard when George Denbrough had died and had a horrible pain in his arm.  _ Was it his arm? _ He thought in his head, before remembering the boy’s gone arm on his casket at the funeral. 

 

He tried to forget about that horrible day as he began to sing the song of “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” By The Clash as a ray of lightning quickly stroked around the nature of Derry. His voice seeming smaller as he was scared. The light on his bike flashing his way as he biked through the street, letting him see the rain the poured down from the sky as it fell in front of him. 

 

He felt peaceful now, a soft smile coming on his lips as he felt happy. Maybe if Jonathan wasn’t home, he could talk to Mike on the super-com and talk about the algebra homework that was given to all of them that weekend. 

 

While he was stuck in his own thoughts, they were quickly awoken when the light of his bike began to waver. This usually happened once every few months, so it wasn’t unusual for it to happen. He saw the lights trembling, now hasty before the light, giving him flashes into the darkness. He looked up, knowing that he would now need to use his own eyes as light, but his eyes tricked him that night.

 

When he looked up as the lights turned off, his eyes widened to see a monster. It was a thin, tall silhouette that stood in front of him. His eyes, seeing that this thing had no face. Adrenaline filled his veins, his hands shaking at what he was seeing. 

 

_ (Was he just dreaming? He thought. No, he couldn't be. He knew who this figure was because it was what-) _

 

Will quickly went left side of the road, passing the monster as he began pedaling with his feet. This had to be a dream. That thing wasn’t real. It couldn't be real because he drew this monster. 

 

Will turned his head around, hoping to see that the monster had disappeared, but it didn’t. The monster’s head, looking over at the boy as it faces began to move. As it did, it opened up into five petals along with a hole in the middle before a loud screech was heard from the monster. 

 

Will winced at the sound, turning his head around as he turned right onto the ground that was the direction of his home as trees surrounded him. His heart beating faster than he had ever anticipated, but it was because of the fear that filled him. Quickly, his body and bike began to bump around on the ground road, his mind screaming at him to go faster so he could tell Mike about what just happened. Hopefully, he could tell Mike what would happen. He couldn’t just die from a monster. 

 

It wasn’t long before he came through the clearing of the forest and his eyes were met with the bungalow of his home. The Byers home was far away from the rest of the Derry town because it was the only house that his mother could afford when she was married to her husband. In the storm and the cold rain, the Byers house seemed distant. The thunderstorm making the house feel old to Will like it was abandoned. 

 

_ Was Jonathan’s car there? _ He thought. A glimmer of hope filling him with relief. When he became closer to the house, his hope diminished, seeing that Jonathan’s car wasn’t there. It made Will still believe that he was still in the nightmare of the monster he had just seen. 

 

_ The monster! Where did it go? _ Will thought, his head turning around to check and see if the monster was there. A flash of lightning emerged from the forest behind his house, giving some light to let Will see that the monster that he had seen before was now at the clearing of the forest. Its’ head staring directly at him. 

 

_ Crap! _ Will thought. He quickly looked back at the house. What could he do? Throw a rock at it? No, Will, think, think! He thought as he quickly biked to the porch of the house. He stopped his bike, quickly getting off it as he looked back to see where the monster was. 

 

It was about halfway towards the house, getting closer with each stride. 

 

Will could feel his fear channel him as he turned around, quickly pulling out the keys to the house. He ran up the steps of the porch, quickly trying to unlock the door before the monster behind him would attack him. His hands began to fumble, quickly trying to get the key into the slot as a screech was heard from behind him. 

 

He entered the key into the slot, turning it to unlock the door as he felt the warm air inside flew out into the cold storm. He opened the door and as he instantly got in, he slammed the door shut and locking all the locks it had. He ran to the telephone, calling 911, waiting for it to come up. He waited for it to dial, but nothing came up. The entire telephone was dead. 

 

The lights in the house of the Byers turned off unexpectedly. Will was swallowed in the darkness, only seeing the light of the night being his only guide into what he was seeing. Nevertheless, it was so dark from the storm that he couldn’t see a single thing. 

 

Will was petrified. He didn’t have his mom, who was the strongest and protective person he knew in his twelve years of living and he didn’t have Jonathan, who was the most understanding and careful person he had ever met. 

 

_ Mike! _ He thought in his head. He could talk to Mike about the situation and maybe he could help. Will quickly ran into the direction of his room, hearing the sound of rain and thunder that came from outside as it was now the least of his worries. His room was a few doors down in the hallway, standing right next to the window that let out flashes of lightning from outside shine like rays onto the carpet. 

 

Will opened the door with a burst, leaving the door to hit the wall next to it as it left off a sound. He didn’t bother to see the details of his room as he rushed towards the bottom of his bed, quickly grabbing the super-com from below it. He felt his lungs began to beg for more air as he stood up from his spot. 

 

He walked towards the door, staring out at the hallway as his heart began to pound. His hands began to fumble with the super-com, shaking uncontrollably as he pulled up the antenna and turned up the volume. He heard the sound of white noise coming from the super-com as it echoed down the hallway. He pressed on the button that let him speak and spoke quickly panic to his best friend. “Mike? Mike, are you there?!” He asked. 

 

He released his fingers on the button, only hearing the sound of white noise become his answer. He felt his stomach sink. Hopelessness and doubt began to fill his head. As he began talking to Mike, he heard one of the locks unlock. 

 

“Mike? Please answer me?!” Will asked him in panic. 

 

“Mike, there is a monster here. I am scared and the lights are out. Please answer me!” Will asked into the communication radio, begging to his best friend to answer him. 

 

A few seconds passed and the quiet answer of Mike only made Will only quiver. Two more locks unlocked. One lock remained there. Silence filled the entire house as the thunderstorm had disappeared altogether. Will could feel his heart pounding through his veins, waiting for the anticipation of the last lock to unlock to reveal the monster he had seen on the street. 

 

An inhuman, gurgling noise was made behind Will. The noise sounding like it was going to say something. A chill was sent down Will’s spine, feeling like the jitters you would get when you were nervous about presenting to the entire class. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes widening when he saw that the monster that he had seen minutes ago, now stood in his room. 

 

He tried to scream, but when his mouth opened wide, there was nothing. It was like the dark, empty void that he felt in his own house. The monster stood in long strides towards the boy. Flashes of lighting now being used as a light to see the terror of how close the monster was getting. 

 

_ Please don’t kill me! _ Will thought.  _ I don’t want to die!  _

 

He felt the hands of the monster grasp at his throat, sharp claws pointing into his skin as he began to lose air. He began to shake, his hands wrapping around the wrist of the dark monster. Will could feel his vision become black, feeling the touch of coarse skin of the monster touch him. He tried to fight It, the monster that stood in front of him, choking him. He began punching the wrist, feeling like he was hitting cement as he tried harder and harder to hit the black (and almost blue) skin. 

 

“I... I want t-to live!” Will choked out in a cry, gasping for more air as the grip of the monster was now getting tighter than before. He felt himself lose himself. His hits and punches becoming less and less, feeling like everything was in slow motion. His body became limp as he lost himself in the darkness of his home. He tried to breathe one more breath before he was gone. 

 

003

 

When Jonathan Byers turned on the lights in the home, the lights turned on all at once, letting the darkness dissipate seconds when the electricity came on. He had just got off his shift. The hour is almost midnight as he entered the house. Everything seemed normal in the house, the tranquil tune of classical music playing on the radio in the living room. 

 

His clothes and jacket were all soaked by the thunderstorm that now began to slowly pass away from Derry. Even though he was very tired, he could smell a decrepit stench that filled the house. It smelled like mud and rain like someone had muddied their shoes everywhere, but there were no footprints anywhere in the house. Jonathan closed the door, his eyes looking around the house to see if something unusual had happened to the house while he was gone. 

 

“Will?” He called out down the hallway. “Did you come home safely?” 

 

There was no answer coming from the hallway. Jonathan was surprised Will wouldn’t say anything unless Will was fast asleep, but he knew that Will usually didn’t sleep well in storms. 

 

Jonathan walked down the hallway, placing his bag next to the couch before continuing his movement down the hallway. He walked down into Will’s room, calling out his name again as he knocked on the door. “Will?” He called out again softly.

 

Again, there was no answer. Jonathan began to be distressed, thinking about the disappearances of the kids in Derry that had risen from the death of George Denbrough. Not only were children being killed by this murderer, but already a teen was found after months of thinking she ran away. Jonathan didn’t remember what her name was since he never met her in high school, but he did see her with Nancy, Mike’s older sister. 

 

Jonathan tried to forget the thought of Nancy Wheeler as he turned the doorknob and opened the door, igniting a wave of cold air from the room. He could hear the inaudible music of “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” By The Clash playing on the radio, sounding like it was a million miles away. Will’s room was dark, the faint moment of lightning giving light into the room as he entered the room before flipping the light switch on. The light switch quivered for a few seconds, which was unusual, but Jonathan had seen conditions more unusual before the lights flooded the bedroom. 

 

Jonathan looked at Will’s bed, hoping to see a squirming, whining Will, but found his bed formed just like it had that morning. He walked to his bed, wondering if he hid under the bed out of fear. 

 

“Will?” He called out, kneeling down and bending under the bed to see if Will was under the bed, but he saw nothing there. 

 

He now felt more nervous now. Was he missing? He thought. Maybe because of the storm Will stayed over at the Wheelers?

 

He was panicking, he didn’t know at all where his little brother is and that scared him. He walked out of his little brother’s room, his foot colliding with something hard as he flung it into the hallway, tumbling before stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jonathan noticed that it was Will’s super-com that Will usually hid under his bed. What if Will was in danger? Jonathan thought. And he tried to call Mike and he didn’t answer because of the storm? Or maybe he was hiding somewhere.

 

He wasn’t. He checked everywhere. Every place that Will would be able to hide in. Nothing. 

 

Jonathan was now panicking. He hoped that Will was having a sleepover. Once finally searching the house for about ten minutes, he went to the telephone as his last option of hope. The pale, yellow telephone stood in the middle of the entire house, being next to the hallway, the living room, and the kitchen. He remembered that any important phone numbers were on the fridge, but he had memorized the Wheelers phone number so many times it was framed in his brain. 

 

He grabbed the telephone handle, holding the telephone in his left hand as he began inserting the phone number. Quickly, he typed in the numbers, placing the telephone on his ear as he heard that the phone was dialing. The sound of the dialing is the annoying sound of a ring that reminded him of the sound of school fire alarm drills that they never usually did. 

 

It took a few minutes, but the phone answered, revealing a voice that he barely remembered. “Hello?” The voice called out, reminding him of whom the only person it could be. It was Nancy Wheeler.  _ Oh great.  _

 

Jonathan tried to be cheerful as he spoke. “Hi, it’s Jonathan, Will’s older brother. Is he having a sleepover with Mike?” 

 

“Hello, Jonathan. Uh, I’m not sure,” Nancy’s voice was soft, but Jonathan knew that it was just because she was tired. 

 

“Could you check?” Jonathan asked, trying not to sound frantic. He didn’t want to sound scared. 

 

“Of course. I’ll talk to Mike,” Nancy said softly. “I’ll be right back,” She seemed calm, but she did not know what was going on. 

 

“Alright,” Jonathan spoke. Silence flooded onto the telephone, Jonathan only hears the sound of Nancy’s footsteps walking up the stairs. The silence felt like a nightmare for Jonathan, feeling like this nightmare of Will being missing with the horrors of what is going on with Derry worse than before. It had been almost eleven months since the start of the deaths. Even though they were becoming less and less, the feeling that his brother might become one of  _ them _ feared him. 

 

Before he knew it, footsteps came back in the distance in the direction towards the phone before the person grabbed the telephone. “I am sorry, Jonathan,” She began. “Mike told me he isn’t here. The two were going to talk on the Super-com, but Will did not answer,” 

 

That was unlike Will. Jonathan thought. Unless something happened in the house, Will would have answered Mike’s call. 

 

“I- Thank you, Nancy,” Jonathan explained to her. 

 

“I hope you find Will,” Her voice seemed like hope to him. Even though she was the girlfriend of a popular guy in their high school, he felt like now he was seeing her true colors. (“I see your true colors shining through,” sang in his head). 

 

“Thanks,” He spoke quietly. 

 

“Well, I should get going to bed. It’s past midnight,” She told him. “I guess this is goodnight for now,” 

 

Jonathan nodded as he heard her words, too tired to notice that no one would see the nod. “Alright. Goodnight Nancy Wheeler,” He told her softly. 

 

“Goodnight Jonathan Byers,” Her voice said softly, Nancy’s voice disappearing around him as he was now in silence. 

 

He could feel tears begin to form in his eyes, his mind now coming to terms that this was real and that Will was actually missing, or more likely, dead. He loved his little brother dearly. Will was his only best friend since Will was born. Even though Jonathan didn’t like a baby in the house at the age of two going to three, he soon fell in love with his brother once he began playing with him. 

 

The door of the Byers home opened slowly, making the teen jump to identify that it was his mother who seemed to look like she had seen the worst. She looked terribly tired, but when she saw her oldest son with tears streaming down his face, she was confused. 

 

Joyce Byers was shorter than Jonathan, with maple brown hair and pale skin that looked a lot like her son, Will. She was wearing the clothes that made her look like she was working at a bowling alley, but sure enough, she was just working at a grocery store that she had been working at for the past five years. 

 

“Jonathan, what’s wrong?” She asked, closing the door as her eyes now seemed worried. 

 

Jonathan felt more tears stream down his cheeks, using his arm to wipe them away. He didn’t want to feel like a baby. “It’s Will,” He told her softly, his voice cracking as he spoke. “He’s missing,”

 

Jonathan Byers had never seen his mother look so pale in her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally decided that these will be updated once a week on Fridays/later Thursdays since I write these in the span of 1-2 per week. 
> 
> Thank you to all who have started reading this. I hope that you like it even though it has somewhat of a slow start.
> 
> Have a good day!


	3. The Morning Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of the missing boy from the night before begins to spread in Derry and with it, one of the eleven begins his morning with a dreading truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes are at the end.

The smell of coffee lingered in the air around him as Jonathan Byers sat alone in the Sheriff’s office. It was now morning, the light of dawn escaping from the shades. His eyes were in bags, dark circles surrounding them like he was almost a skeleton. He had changed out of his work clothes, since his mother didn’t want him in his work clothes all night, and into his orange t-shirt, his fleece jacket, and another pair of jeans. He looked dead and drained, but he seemed to linger sitting in his seat. 

The door opened, revealing his mother who looked tired too as she held two, styrofoam cups that had the amazing smell of coffee. Jonathan concluded that she must have gotten it from Flo to give them some coffee since they looked distressed. Jonathan could see she had the urge to smoke as she walked over towards him, giving him his cup quickly before placing her down. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, pulling one out before smoking it. The smell of tobacco and coffee mixed together in the room that smelled somewhat nice to Jonathan, maybe it was as a result of how tired he was. 

 

Jonathan and his mother hadn’t slept all night. They had both hoped that Will would come back without the fear that he was taken by the serial killer, but he had never come back. So, that morning at around early seven in the morning, they came here to find Sheriff Hopper, who had lived in Derry for about two years and still had the audacity to be extremely late. He was fifty minutes past the usual time. Jonathan could handle it and wait patiently, but his mother was impatient as she smoked harshly with the cigarette to her lips.

 

She took a long, deep breath from the cigarette, grabbing the burning stick with her two fingers. She parted her mouth, letting out the smoke that had gone inside her lungs escaped as she let out an annoyed grumble. “Sheriffs are supposed to be here earlier than everyone else. I’ll show him a piece of my mind when he comes here,” Her voice sounded venomous like she was going into her full-on motherly rage. You never wanted to provoke on Joyce’s detrimental side or else you were screwed for eternity. 

 

Jonathan took a sip from the coffee, feeling the warm drink, go down his throat as send warm shivers down his whole body. He hadn’t even noticed that he was cold. “Mom, calm down,” He told her softly. “He will come soon,” 

 

“Okay,” Joyce said, taking a deep breath. He always tried to calm her down whenever she was stressed. 

 

It only took minutes before the door behind them opened, revealing a large, burly man that reminded Jonathan of a lumberjack. His entire clothing set being tan unlike the other officers in Derry who wore tan and blue. He had a brown beard and a glazed doughnut in his mouth. In his hand held a styrofoam cup of coffee just like the Byers. He looked at the two, his footsteps wandering behind his desk before he placed his cup of coffee and began eating his doughnut. 

 

Jonathan could observe that his mother was furious. Ms. Byers glared at the Sheriff, she let out an annoyed sigh through her nostrils before she began. “Sheriff Hopper, do you know how long we have been waiting here? It’s eight in the morning,” She told him with irritation.

 

“I apologize, but I was sleeping,” The Sheriff told them. “I was up last night looking at the missing cases, but here I am,” He sat down in his seat, pulled out a cigarette before lighting it.

 

Joyce suggested to be sympathetic towards the Sheriff, but Jonathan knew that she was just trying to calm herself down for she was mad. She placed the cigarette on her lips, inhaling the smoke before taking the burning stick from her lips as she exhaled. 

 

Sheriff Hopper took a deep breath, smoke exhaling from his lips as he stared at her. “What’s your son’s name?” 

 

“Will. Will Byers,” Joyce told him, her hands shaking. 

 

“Alright. Do you have any relatives that your son could be wanting to meet?” He asked, his hands grabbing a missing person form and putting it into the typewriter. 

 

Jonathan’s mom turned to him, looking for another answer than the one she was going to say and shook his head to tell her no. 

 

“Well his father might be one,” She said softly. “But I do not know why he would go to him. We haven’t seen him for two years as a result of divorcing in ‘83, but Will didn’t have a favorable relationship with his father,”

 

“Like what?” Sheriff asked, his eyes staring right at her as his hands were ready to type. 

 

Joyce let out a deep sigh, taking another smoke. “His father would call him a fag, sometimes retarded or weak and other hurtful labels,” She explained. “He lives in Indiana now with his girlfriend so even then, it would be a long journey from Maine to Indiana,” 

 

The Sheriff nodded, his fingers beginning to type hastily. “Where does he live?” He asked. 

 

“Hawkins, Indiana. It’s a suburban town near Indianapolis,” Joyce explained to him. 

 

Jonathan could regard that the man became a little tense hearing that name, almost like he had heard the name before.  _ Didn’t the Sheriff live in Indiana before he came here? _ Jonathan thought in his mind, but he was asking rhetorically. 

 

“Alright,” Sheriff Hopper replied, his fingers typing away as he began speaking. “I will call the Sheriff in Hawkins and check Mr. Byers’ home to find your son if he is there tomorrow, but until then, I would suggest putting up some missing posters around Derry,” 

 

Ms. Byers scoffed in annoyance. “Are you serious? Putting up missing posters around Derry has done nothing for finding the rest of the kids that have gone missing,” She explained in a furious voice. “We should be finding him through the forest or-“ 

 

“Ms. Byers,” Sheriff Hopper told her in a serious, almost annoyed voice. 

 

“You know that when I was a teen that this same coincidence happened,” She replied, standing up as she was pointing right at the Sheriff. “In ‘58 kids began to go missing before their bodies were found. When my teen boyfriend had disappeared in 1958, all they did was do the same bullshit you are doing!” 

 

“Mom, calm down!” Jonathan spoke up into the conversation. “We’re just trying to find Will, not kicked out of the office,” 

 

Joyce stared at her eldest son, letting out a sigh as she back down in her seat. 

 

The Sheriff seemed exhausted by Jonathan’s mother. “I understand that this terrible to take in, but we need to be logical, Joyce,” He began. “It is possible that he is with his biological father or with another relative,” 

 

“I know my boy. He would never run away from us,” She explained.

 

“Well, it is a possibility that someone did kidnap him, but I don’t think anyone would do that in this town,” The Sheriff explained. “Moreover, your son implies to be shy and reserved,” 

 

“Are you that oblivious?” Joyce Byers asked the Sheriff, almost in pity. “There is a murderer in this town and you don’t even notice it. Look around, Sheriff Hopper. Look at how many kids aren’t coming home to their families like George Denbrough and I do not want Will to become like the rest of them,” Jonathan could spot that his mother was going to the brink of a mental breakdown. Her finger pointing directly at the Sheriff as she was staring up in her seat. “I want you to find my son and bring him home!” She exclaimed. “Bring him home!” 

 

The Sheriff let out a sigh, his eyes looking at the two with sadness. Jonathan thought it was a pity. “I will try,” 

  
  


002

  
  


"Hello, this is the Toziers' residence," Richie Tozier heard Maggie Tozier, his mother, say that Monday morning after the telephone had rung. Mrs. Tozier was leaning on the wall, her black hair dressed in puffy, curls that went down to her shoulders as she glanced at the front door. She wore a business suit that was burgundy. The time was around seven-thirty in the morning. The sun was showing it’s rays in the windows of the kitchen that warmed his body while he ate breakfast before school would start. 

 

Richie sat in front of the kitchen table, his eyes staring at his mother while she was having her conversation with someone on the phone. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast with a glass of orange juice stood in front of him that his mother had made. His father, Wentworth Tozier, an old man wearing large glasses and a style that reminded Richie of fashion in the thirties, was drinking some coffee while reading the newspaper beside him. His father didn’t even bother looking at his son.

 

Richie looked more like his mother than his father. He had his mother’s brown eyes and messily, black curls that were curled near his face. However, he did have his father’s horrible eyesight which was why he wore large, red glasses that made his eyes look like bug eyes. To some degree, he looked very similar to his cousin, Mike Wheeler, except for the glasses and his sense of style of clothing. That morning, he wore a brown shirt that had colorful stripes right on the chest under a black hoodie with jeans and his daily, dirty shoes.

 

Richie’s direction was focused on his mother, his mind flowing with curiosity. He asked his mother loudly. “Mom, who are you talking to?” 

 

His mother turned to her son, moving the telephone from her ears. She placed her hand on the telephone, blocking so the caller wouldn't hear what she was going to say to her son. “It’s your aunt,” 

 

Richie escaped out a groan from his lips. Really? They received a call from Mrs. Wheeler? He thought. “Let me guess, Mike is in the hospital for being the stuck-up nerd he is,” He said sarcastically. 

 

“Richard,” His father told him with a strict tone in his voice. “Do not say that about your cousin,” 

 

Richie, being a special kind of person in Derry, flipped his father under the table in frustration. He usually did if he could hide his hands under something like a table or desk, which he usually did if teachers were horrible. 

 

In Derry, everyone knew that Richie Tozier was kind of nutty. With his insane impressions that somewhat still sounded like his own voice, but he believed to call himself an amateur and the fact he could never shut up. It was mainly the reason he would be stuck in detention for his dirty mouth, which started his nickname “Trashmouth” that he believed was a compliment. 

 

Consequently, it was the reason he was friends with the Loser’s Club. He named them that when Henry Bowers gave him the idea by calling them “a Club for Losers”. The Loser’s Club consisted of a stuttering boy, a kid with asthma, a boy who was Jewish and had a fascination with birds, and him, himself. It was the best of both worlds since they were all friends with one another because of their obscure behaviors. 

 

Richie moved his head away from his father to his mother. “Honey, why is Mrs. Wheeler on the phone?” Richie asked, his voice imitating his father’s voice since it was fairly low with a New England accent.

 

“Yes, that would be amazing,” His mother explained to the speaker on the phone, turning her body away from her husband and son. Richie frowned in response. 

 

“Richie, just let your mother talk to her sister,” Richie’s father told him, his eyes staring at the newspaper. At the front where Richie could see the headline wrote: “ANOTHER MISSING CHILD FILLS TERROR IN DERRY; Twenty-six bodies have been found, but when will we find the killer?” 

 

Richie let out a troubled sigh. “But it’s my aunt. Nothing good happens when my aunt calls,” He grumbled, stabbing his fork on his scrambled eggs before he began eating it.

 

“Thank you, Karen. See you soon,” His mother told his aunt, ending the call before going back into the dining room. 

 

Richie turned to his mother. “So, what does my aunt want?” He asked. 

 

“Well, it’s actually what I want. I asked her a favor since we are going on a business trip,” She walked towards her husband, placing her hand on his shoulder. 

 

Richie was now worried. “What was the favor?” 

 

“You’re going to stay over at the Wheelers for the rest of the week,” 

 

“What?!” Richie exclaimed. “No! I don’t want to be with them! The only cousin I like is Holly!” 

 

Mrs. Tozier sighed, rubbing her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Richie, I believe it would be good if you connected positively with Mike since your aunt told me that Mike’s childhood friend is missing,” 

 

“Who?” Richie leaned on his chair, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

 

“Will Byers,” She told her son with a sigh. “She said that he was missing since the time Mike said goodbye to him last night, so he might be a little glum today. Maybe you could help him,” 

 

“Mike would never want my fucking help,” Richie grumbled. 

 

“Richard Tozier! Watch your language,” His mother exclaimed. 

 

Richie glumly played with his food. “Plus, he’s probably in love with Will if he isn’t at school today,” 

 

“Also, do not say those horrid words about your cousin,” His father told him. Richie always knew his parents were homophobic. It was the reason why most parents wanted their kids away from Will Byers because he was a “fairy”. 

 

Fairy, in terms of the bullying business, meant someone who was/or acts gay or homosexual. It was a usual term that Henry Bowers and his goons used on the Loser’s Club twice as much as Mike Wheeler and his friends, but it was because Will Byers became “recognized” as one by everyone else in school. The reason how Will was recognized as a fairy was basically that his father told his other friends who were fathers themselves that he was a fairy and once the fathers told their sons, that’s how this whole mess started. 

 

Richie had seen Will Byers every now and then, but Will was mostly next to his best friend Mike and his friends. When he did have a class with him, Will was very shy and didn’t want to talk to others. Richie believed that when he introduced himself to Will that he scared the fuck out of him. 

 

One memory he did remember about Will was when he was talking to Bill after the funeral and how sweet he seemed to Bill. He remembered how Bill’s cheeks were slightly pink when he began talking about the story to his friends, stuttering profusely because he was so nervous and awkward about talking about it. He never saw Bill act so different about anyone and Will Byers was the first. 

 

Richie left his thoughts as his mother began talking. 

 

“What if Eddie went missing and Mike said that same sentence that you just said in front of him?” Mrs. Tozier asked him, taking her cup of coffee from the counter.

 

“Well, if I was honest, I would punch him in the face,” Richie explained. “But Mike isn’t here so I can’t,”

 

“Still, that’s why you shouldn’t be saying that about Mike, boy,” His father told him in irritation before taking a drink of his cup. 

 

“Just try it out, that is all I am asking,” His mother told him, leaning on the kitchen counter. “You could become friends with your cousin, someday and all of this would go away,” 

 

Richie sighed. “That will never happen. He hates me,” 

 

The reason why he did not like Mike was because he knew Mike hated him. They were both entirely different and, consequently, they looked very similar. People who did not know believed they were identical twins who lived with separate families, which happened so many times that Richie and Mike couldn’t be in the same class in elementary school because no one knew who was who. 

 

The difference between Mike and Richie was obvious. Richie wore glasses and Mike didn’t. Mike was the leader of his friend group and Richie wasn’t. Mike had manners and was civil while Richie was chaotic and messy. Richie had struggles keeping friends and Mike had friends that stuck to him. Mike had great grades and Richie struggled to keep them. It felt like to Richie, Mike Wheeler was better at everything than him. He was the favorite twin. When they met on family occasion where it was necessary to be friendly, Mike always seemed so stuck-up and tried to be away from Richie as much as possible. 

 

It was the reason why he hated Mike and that was fine because Mike hated him too. 

 

“He doesn’t hate you,” 

 

Richie laughed in response. It was a sarcastic laugh. 

 

It was only seconds until the doorbell rang, which Richie knew exactly who it was. “Well, I ought to be ah going missus and mister,” He said in a Scottish voice. “Billy boy is a’waiting for me!” He left out of his seat, a smile already spreading across his lips as he rushed out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 

 

“Remember to have your keys with you!” Mrs. Tozier exclaimed to her son behind him. 

 

“Don’t worry, I come here more often than you!” Richie said back to his parents. His voice sounded like it was nice, but he was hiding his annoyance.

 

He entered into the hallway, grabbing his backpack that looked like a lump next to the wall by the staircase. The doorbell rang again once more as he put his backpack on his shoulders. “Billy boy, it’s alright!” Richie exclaimed towards the door. “I’m right here!” 

 

Richie walked to the door, opening it as the cold air of September blew into the Tozier house. Richie smiled, seeing three boys stand out in front of him. He saw that one of them, the boy with the blonde hair, was going to ring the doorbell again. 

 

The three boys that stood in front of Richie Tozier were Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Stan Uris or as everyone knew them in their school as the Loser’s Club. 

 

Bill Denbrough, or Stuttering Bill as the majority called him, was the leader of the group. His pretty eyes and red hair were what many girls would consider handsome if it weren’t for his stutter that had worsened when his brother, George, had died nine months ago. Bill had been since then, but he always tried to hide his pain. He usually tried to leave reality by making stories that he wrote in his notebook since Bill wanted to be an author when he grew up.

 

Next to Bill Denbrough was Eddie Kaspbrak, the short boy next to him on Bill’s right whose cheeks seemed to become pink at Richie’s prescience. Eddie was Richie’s best friend in the group. Even though Eddie was very cautious and had horrible asthma, he was a fiery boy. He had the same brown color as his hair and eyes that went well with the cute freckles on his nose and cheeks and his adorable little face. It was the reason why Richie loved pinching his cheeks and calling him “Eds” which Eddie despised being called it. 

 

Lastly, on Bill’s left was Stan Uris. Stan was slightly taller than the rest of the two boys with his blonde, curly hair and pretty hazel eyes. He was the Rabbi’s son, which was the main reason why many of the kids who knew Stan never wanted to be friends with him because he was different. Many of the kids at school nicknamed him “Urine” because of his last name. Stan was more cautious than the others, but like Eddie, his fiery side was his sarcasm that he used all the time on Richie. 

 

“Stan are you fucking kidding me? Are you that impatient?” Richie asked out loud to the boys. 

 

“You take too long,” Stan, the blonde boy, told him with annoyance in his voice. 

 

“Well, I am sorry for your expectations, Mr. Uris,” Richie told him, receiving a chuckle from Bill and an eye roll from Eddie. 

 

“Whatever trashmouth,” Stan told him, rolling his eyes in response. 

 

“Richie, a-ah-are you ruh-ready?” Bill said, a soft smile on his face. 

 

Richie smiled. “Yep!” His tongue pointing out the p in the word. “Let’s go to the worst place possible,” He left the house and closed the door behind him without turning back.

 

_The start of a new week of school for five days._ Richie thought. _I hope that it’s fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am sorry for not updating, I have truly been struggling with my own mental health. 
> 
> I hope to update in two weeks around the same time. I usually edit these chapters around this time. 
> 
> I hope you have a good day!


	4. The Funeral Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill remembers a moment he had with Will as he finds news about his disappearance and the four begin their Monday morning by going to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not updating in such a long time, I hope this long chapter helps.

_Nine months before the disappearance of Will Byers_

 

Bill Denbrough stared at his brother’s coffin, staring at the closed coffin that had his brother’s body inside. He stood next to the Pastor of the Lutheran church that afternoon while the Pastor was reading a bible verse in front of everyone who was there.

 

The day was cloudy, feeling just as gloomy as Bill felt that day. It was almost a week after the death of his brother and now, he held a funeral for him. Residents of Derry that either knew the Denbroughs or knew George were all in a circle around the coffin. Beautiful roses were on top of the coffin, lavender ribbons flowing from under it. Bill thought that roses were so beautiful and would work well with his brother’s coffin.

 

Bill was the only Denbrough to come to his brother’s funeral, standing alone with his friends behind him. His eyes red with crying after he had spoken a message out about his little brother since his parents did not want to see their son dead with one arm. He could hear Eddie cries behind him along with the whispers of Richie trying to comfort him. Bill felt truly alone at this moment as he thought about his brother while he was the only member of his family to come. He already missed him so much.

 

The wind blew harshly around the circle of families surrounding him, feeling like a branch being thrashed from the tree. Everyone was silent except for the Pastor, nevertheless, the sound of someone sniffing the snot off their nose was heard from the circle as well as some were crying that was louder than others.

 

Bill heard a voice whisper quietly through the circle. Bill’s head jolted up, his eyes searching for the sound of the voice as he knew that the voice was near his hearing. “Will, are you okay?” The voice asked.

 

“I’m fine,” A quiet voice replied, from the audience of grieving people. “I just have a runny nose,”

 

Bill’s ears went in the direction of the sound to see the four boys, the two of them were silently chatting as the Pastor went on about the god’s life and death for us. He immediately knew who both of them were, or at least knew them by their appearance. The boy who asked the other who was all right was a boy whose name he didn’t really remember. He knew that he was Richie’s cousin and Richie didn’t really like saying his name, so he never knew his name.

 

The boy next to Richie’s cousin was the kid, he knew in his first-grade class, who was named Will. He didn’t really know Will that well since he knew the kid was very shy and always seemed to hang out with Richie’s cousin and his other friends, who were at the funeral as well. Bill could see that there were tears streaming down the boy’s eyes along with face flushed by either the cold air or his own tears. Why would Will be crying? He thought, confused that this small kid who was the same age as Bill, who didn’t know him, was crying at a funeral for his brother.

 

Richie’s cousin went into his pocket, pulling out a white cloth of tissue and gave it to Will. Will took the tissue, wiping the tissue to soak his tears onto the tissue. Bill didn’t know why he was staring at them, but he was so enthralled in the small boy next to Richie’s cousin that he didn’t know why he was even doing it in the first place. Will seemed so soft and Bill just wanted to hold him in his arms.

 

Bill, what the f-fuh-fuck are y-you t-thinking? He asked himself. It’s a b-buh-boy! Boys don’t d-duh-do comfort for other b-buh-boys.

 

“In the name of the Lord we pray,” The Pastor began, his voice waiting for everyone to come into the same word.

 

“Amen,” the entire circle said except Bill, whose eyes were staring at Will. He was just so enthralled by Will’s prescience that he didn’t even hear those words. Once those words were said, families began to separate from the funeral place, fading away from the circle as they went towards their cars.

 

Bill’s observation of the small boy was once met as Will’s eyes glanced right back at him when he turned his head in Bill’s direction. Bill felt his heart warm up as he did, seeing Will’s pretty, hazel eyes. They seemed to show pity, not in a hateful sort of way, but sympathetic.

 

“Hey, Big Bill,” A voice told him, taking his attention from the boy in the distance to meeting his three friends who were behind him. The voice of the caller was Richie, his eyes slightly red as he stared at his young friend. His friends were all wearing their finest clothes and Bill hadn’t noticed until now that Richie and Eddie were holding hands the entire time while Eddie had been crying.

 

“Wu-wuh-what?” Bill asked, feeling his body tired from the past two hours. He needed a nap when he got home.

 

“Take all the time you need here,” Richie told him, his voice, subtle as he turned to the others. “We’re going back to the church to get some lunch. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

 

Bill turned behind him, seeing that Will was talking to his own friends, but sat down on the bench a few graves near George’s grave. He turned back to his friends. “I’ll be oh-oh-okay. I’m going to b-buh-be here f-for a little wuh-while,” He explained.

 

“Alright,” Richie told him. “See you soon,” The three boys began to walk away from Bill, going in the direction of the church as their family members were waiting for them.

 

Bill was now alone, turning in the direction of where Will was. He saw that Will sat alone, his head in the direction of where Will’s friends were walking towards the cars. The only people in the graveyard were the men burying George’s grave and the two boys. Bill saw the Will seemed alone, his eyes looking over at the men by his brother’s grave before looking up at Bill. Shy, his head immediately swerved away from Bill’s gaze and in a different direction.

 

Bill, feeling some sort of courage left in him, walked towards the boy on the bench. He sat down next to Will, not too close so that there wouldn’t be any kind of physical touch between them since that would be very uncomfortable for the two.

 

There was a quiet silence as the two sat there, but it wasn’t awkward. Bill’s eyes looking over at the grave as they had just finished burying George’s body in the ground.

 

“I’m very sorry,” The voice beside him began. Bill’s head swerved to the boy that he was staring at earlier.

 

Bill nodded, he couldn’t speak because; firstly, he didn’t want him to hear his horrible stutter and secondly, he didn’t want to start crying because he always cried when Bill had to talk about him. He didn’t like crying, especially in front of a kid that he knew six years ago that he never talked to except for the times when they would talk because they were next to one another in alphabetical order in their first-grade class.

 

Will wiped his eyes with the tissue that Richie’s cousin had given him. “I really liked your speech,” He said softly. “I think we were the only ones crying in the room,”

 

A soft chuckle rose on Bill’s lips as Bill nodded in agreement. “Y-Yuh-Yeah, maybe, we wuh-were except f-for the m-muh-moms,”

 

A sad smile came over Will’s face, his eyes solemn as he turned to Bill and then the grave. “Yeah,” He told him.

 

“I-I-I don’t w-wuh-want to intrude, but w-wuh-why did yuh-you c-cry?”

 

Will’s head glanced over at the grave of George Denbrough, the men had just finished burying George’s grave and were now leaving the scene. Will’s eyes glanced at Bill before looking down. “I cried because George didn’t deserve what he got. He never lived past six years old while all of us have. We have passed six years old, but he’s never going to graduate or have his first kiss or watch Star Wars again because he _can’t_ ,” Will’s voice cracked as he said the last word, his eyes filling up with tears as he didn’t even look at Bill in the eye. He grabbed the tissue, wiping the snot from his nose as he continued. “George Denbrough should have experienced all of those things and gotten a wife and have kids,” He let out a sob, tears falling down his face. He heaved for his lungs, turning into hard rasps as he cried. “He should have been able to grow old and have grandkids,”

 

Bill felt tears fill the brim of his eyes as he kept his head low. Some of the drops falling down his cheeks as he began. “I-I,” He couldn’t speak. Curse his stutter.

 

Will sniffed the snot that came up his nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you,” He began. “You’ve lost a brother and if I lost my older brother, I would be exactly like you,”

 

“I-I-I don’t nuh-know how that i-is eh-helping m-muh-me,” Bill told him.  

 

Will didn’t know what else to react, letting out a sigh as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” He told him.

 

“You k-know what y-yuh-you could do?”

 

“What?” Will’s eyes glanced at him.

 

“C-Cuh-Cou-Could you comfort m-muh-me?” Bill told him. “Like hold my hand, h-huh-hug me. I h-haven’t gotten a-a lot of c-duh-comfort because of my bruh-brother usually-“

 

Will shyly placed his hand on top of Bill’s interrupting Bill conversation. Slowly, their lukewarm hands slowly joined as they were holding each other's hand. Bill’s cheeks turned pink, his heart feeling warmer than before as he felt a fluttery feeling in his chest. Bill’s turned to Will, seeing that the boy’s cheeks were pink too, as his head was turned at the pastor walking to his car.

 

“I’m sorry. This must be weird,” Will began, letting his hand release from Bill’s, but Bill gave him a comforting squeeze.

 

“Duh-Don’t say s-suh-sorry,” Bill said. Bravely, he laid his head on Will’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He felt Will’s body become immediately warm at his touch and Bill felt Will gently squeeze Bill’s hand.

 

“Sorry,” Will apologized, making Bill softly smile. “I’ve never done this before to another boy,”

 

“It’s f-fuh-fine, Will,” Bill gave Will a soft squeeze back on his hand. “M-Muh-Me too,”

 

They stayed silent for a long time, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It felt right. Bill felt this was a lot nicer than he thought the funeral would be.

 

Minutes passed while they stay quiet before one of them spoke. The wind blowing harshly against the trees as the orange leaves blew off from their branches. Bill felt like he could sleep on Will’s shoulder forever.

 

“Hey, Bill?” Will’s voice was quiet as he asked.

 

“Y-Yuh-Yeah?”

 

“Why did you have the picture be of a paper boat on his grave?”

 

“The paper boat is what I made for him before he died,” Bill explained. “I basically begged my parents for the engraving.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because they wanted to do have his y-yuh-usual engraving be “buh-beloved son and brother” and I never w-w-wanted that. It would be like all the o-other graves. . . Just b-bland,” Bill explained, giving a squeeze to Will’s hand.

 

“I understand.”

 

A few minutes passed until Will spoke, breaking the silence.

 

“We should get back to the church,” Will said softly. “My friends might be worried about for how long I have been gone,” He began.

 

“Are you going to eat lunch there?” Bill asked.

 

“Yes,”

 

“Then, m-muh-maybe we c-cuh-could h-hold hands until w-wuh-we get t-there?” Bill asked, his head moving away from Will’s shoulder.

 

Will’s cheeks looked slightly pink, but Bill thought it was because of the cold. “Sure,”

 

Awkwardly, the two boys got up from their spots, their hands connected as they walked to the church. Bill’s heart with a fluttery feeling that he would never forget. They walked to the church, not speaking a word as the silence was comfortable for them. The November wind blew against their faces, and Bill felt himself shiver with the urge to go into somewhere warm.

 

They separated their hands when they got to the church, not trying to give themselves attention as they went inside. Warm air hit Bill’s cold body as he entered, his body almost thawing by the warmth. Bill didn’t see that Richie had seen the two hold hands when they got to the Church, watching the scene unfold from behind them.

 

As the two disconnected their hands from one another, Will’s eyes turned to Bill with sympathy. “If you need someone, or anyone to talk to, I would love to help,” Will told him, his cheeks turning pink.

 

Bill nodded, his hair bouncing. “Y-Yuh-You too, Will,”

 

Will gave Bill a soft smile, his hazel eyes shining as he stared at Bill’s blue-green orbs. “Goodbye, Bill,” He told him. He turned his body into the direction of the dining area, going towards the table where his friends sat as they were talking with one another as one of them was stuffing bread rolls in their mouth.

 

“Goodbye Will,”

002

In the fall of September, almost eleven months since George Denbrough had died, Bill felt his heart sink as he got to his bike. The four of his friends walking towards their bikes as they were ready to leave the Tozier home and to Derry Middle School.

 

Bill got on Silver, the bike that he had gotten when he was ten that was too large for him when he got it that now fit him perfectly as he had grown. “W-Wi-Will’s m-mi-missing?” He asked Richie, his eyes were filled with sadness.

 

Richie pushed up his glasses, standing up his bike before sitting on the bike seat. “I guess so. Nancy told my aunt that Will had been missing since he had left the Wheelers. He might have run away,”

 

“Richie, you always say that about every kid before their bodies is found,” Eddie honestly pointed out, getting on the seat of his small bike.

 

“Well maybe I am optimistic for the kids,” Richie told Eddie with a smile, ruffling his hair.

 

“Richie!” Eddie exclaimed, flatting his hair down. “You’re such a turd,” He told him.

 

Stan’s eyes glanced back at the stuttering boy next to him. Immediately noticing that Bill was having a different expression than the two boys next to them. “Bill, is something wrong?” Stan asked.

 

Bill’s thought was dreamt on the memory of Will and him together at the funeral. His heart saddening as his eyes moved to Stan. “I-I-I-“

 

“Bill, it’s okay,” Richie told Bill, getting on his bike. “We all know that you had a special connection with Will, that might have been a fling, and you miss him,”

 

“I-Ih-It was n-not a f-fling,” Bill stated, his cheeks turned red as he spoke. “It was a b-buh-buh-bonding m-mo-moment,”

 

“A bonding moment where you two held hands when you got to the church,” Richie smirked.

 

“Well you and Eddie held hands at the funeral,” Stan said with a smirk, making Eddie’s ears go red in embarrassment.

 

“That was different! He needed comfort!” Richie exclaimed loudly, turning towards Eddie. “Right, Eds?”

 

“Richie, don’t call me that,” Eddie told him with irritation.

 

Bill placed his feet on the pedals of his bike, pushing off one of the pedals as Silver began to slowly bike onto the road. He turned his head around, watching as his friends biked behind him. The cool air blew in his face, telling him fall was coming.

 

Richie began biking on his right, his black curls blowing away from his face from the slight breeze that blew as they biked. “You know, Bill, I need to ask. Did you have a certain crush over Will Byers?”

 

Bill could feel his entire face heat up with the thought. “W-Wuh-What the fuck, Richie? Of c-cuh-course not. H-H-He’s a b-bu-buh-buh-boy,” He told him, his head turning towards Richie.

 

“Yeah, but you know how I feel about Eds,” Richie smiled, looking over at Eddie.

 

“Uh, what do you feel about me, Richie?” Eddie’s voice proclaimed from behind Bill. “I need to know,”

 

“Well, I think you are the cutest little boy to ever live in Derry!”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Richie!” Eddie exclaimed. “It’s so fucking embarrassing,”

 

“You are!”

 

“Richie, you have a weird brain,” Stan proclaimed in an irritated tone.

 

As the three began chatting while Bill biked with them to Derry Middle School, Bill began to regret not being more with Will.

 

“No, I don’t! Every brain is different from each other!”

 

“Richie, they all look the same,” Stan argued with Richie.

 

“B-Buh-But every brain a-acts different,” Bill told them, getting out of his thoughts.

 

“Wise words, Big Bill,” Richie said, pointing a finger gun at Bill since he couldn’t do the other one or else he would have fallen on his bike.

 

Bill rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. “It’s what I learned in Mr. Clarke’s Science Class,”

 

“That’s cool. Maybe you could be a psychologist when you are older,”

 

Bill smiled and shook his head. “I d-duh-don’t like science t-that much. I want to be a writer.. or a-ah-an artist,”

 

“You could be a comic book writer!” Richie said in excitement.

 

Eddie let out a burst of laughter, his laughter sounding like a weird version a hyena. “I could never see Bill as a comic book writer,” He explained.

 

“But I’m saying he would do like the horror comic books!” Richie told him. “Like the ones about the Killer Clown and the sewer monster!”

 

“Hu-Huh-Horror isn’t really m-muh-my t-thing, R-Richie,” Bill told him.

 

When Bill turned to what was in front of him and not behind his friends, he found himself biking towards Derry Middle School. Sixth through eighth grades all chatting outside the building either entering inside the brick building. The four friends biked to the bike racks, seeing that there were a few empty racks and was enough for their bikes to park.

 

“What?!” Richie exclaimed. “You could be like the best horror writer because of your life. I mean, your brother died of the murderer in this town that’s been killing kids!” He yelled.

 

There was absolute silence from Bill, making his entire body freeze up at the thought of George’s death while he got off his bike. His eyes turned to Richie, who was getting glares from Eddie and Stan about the words he had said.

 

“I’m guessing you’re going to say Beep beep, Richie?” Richie asked, his eyes glancing at Bill.

 

“Y-Yuh-Yes,” Bill said softly.

 

“Okay, but what I mean is that you can create horror from personal experience,” Richie said. “You know, like a serial killer in a town and kids are the victims! Even Stan Lee would read that comic book!”

 

“Richie, Stan Lee would never read that,” Eddie told him.

 

“Yeah, he probably would. You may never know!” Richie said with a wide smile.

 

Stan and Eddie rolled their eyes at Richie.

 

“Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” Richie asked, his eyes looking at the others.

 

Bill turned his head around, looking at the kids around him while his friends were talking by the bike racks. Before he knew it, he found himself observing the three boys in Will’s group including, Richie’s cousin. They seemed to be worried and concerned. Their faces solemnly look at one another.

 

His eyes locked with Mike’s when he left his eyes from his friends. Mike’s brows furrowed, his face turning to disgust before turning back to his friends.

 

Bill let out a quiet sigh.

 

“So, is B-Bu-Buh-Billy feeling sad for his boyfriend?” A voice interrupted, making the boy’s head jerk away from Mike to whose voice it was. It was Henry Bowers, a tall, stern-looking teen who was a grade older than them even though he was going to turn seventeen. A sly smirk wrapped on his lips. His friends Victor Criss, Belch Huggins, and Patrick Hockstetter began to appear in the picture beside him.

 

He saw the three of his friends become almost scared by their coming. Eddie came closer towards Richie while Stan and Richie were trying to hide their fear by giving a straight face.

 

Bill could sense the fiery anger that ensued him as he spoke. “H-Heh-He’s not my b-buh-boyfriend,” He told them.

 

“Oh really?” Patrick Hockstetter asked, a smile that seemed as evil as Henry’s stuck on his face. “I thought fairies always stayed together,”

 

“Are you missing your boyfriend since he’s not here today?” Henry asked standing in front of Bill.

 

Bill’s brows furrowed, glaring at Henry with hatred.

 

“Why do you care about their friendship?” Richie asked loudly. “They aren’t fucking fairies and unlike you, they actually care about loving someone,”

 

Henry turned his head to Richie, giving Richie a nasty glare that made Richie swallow the saliva in his throat. Henry stepped towards Richie, breaking from the glance that Bill and Henry had on Richie. “What did you say?”

 

“You know what I fucking said,” Richie proclaimed.

 

“Come here trashmouth,” Henry growled. “And I will truly show you-”

 

The bell interrupted his conversation with Richie, telling the pre-teens of Derry to get to their classes to start school.

 

Henry let out an angry sigh, pointing directly at Richie with his finger. “You are dead at lunch, Richie Tozier,” The Bowers gang retreated from the bike racks, heading towards the doors.

 

“We’ll all die anyway, Bowers!” Richie exclaimed at Henry.

 

Eddie immediately glared at Richie, his eyes filled with fury. “What the fuck, Richie? Are you insane?” He asked. “We are going to be murdered by them and probably have our stomachs stabbed because of you,”

“At least I’ll have my grave next to you,” Richie smiled, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s shoulder.

 

“Still Richie, you should have stayed quiet,” Stan told him. “They’re a lot bigger than us and they will probably murder us because you talked to them,”

 

“Stan the Man, you know me,” Richie said with a smile. “I will never shut up, it’s like a rule in the Trashmouth constitution,”

 

Stan rolled his eyes and said, “Let me guess, you wrote it?”

 

Richie smiled. “Of course, I did,”

 

Bill felt this was a good time to go to school. He truly felt like he needed to be alone and away from his friends. The boy he thought about all the time was now missing and now, he screwed up everything. He was supposed to be there for him and to make his day, but he was too scared to do that.

 

Bill sighed, looking over at his friends. “I-I-I’m going to g-go to c-class,” He explained.

 

“Do you want us to join?” Eddie asked, his eyes looking at him with concern.

 

Bill shook his head. He didn’t want to be with them right now, at least until lunch. He just wanted to be with him and his thoughts. “No, I-I’ll be alright,” He said. Bill turned from them and walked away from the bike racks to the stairs. Wind breezed through his body, giving him the shivers before opening the doors, hearing the sound of leaves. He entered inside, hearing the sounds of lockers slamming and kids walking to their class.

 

Bill truly felt alone today and he hoped if there was a god that Will could be alright. He truly did not want him found dead. He winced as he thought about finding Will’s body like the body in a horror movie.

 

_(A body like George. He remembered seeing his body in the hospital. His body pale as a ghost as he stood out by the door. His hands shook, shaking like he was having a panic attack. His mother sobbed on the chair as she held his hand because his other hand was gone. George’s eyes were closed and his amputated arm now wrapped in gauze. He remembered leaving the room and to the bathroom, vomiting the food in his stomach because of the horror. Oh the horror that came from seeing his entire arm gone-)_

 

He did not notice it then, but by the time that he had conjured those horrible memories, Bill had found himself sitting in the assigned seat of his advisory period like he had teleported himself in the classroom.

 

The bell rang and as usual, class began, feeling as though something wrong had happened in Derry just like all the other times a kid had gone missing. And as the teacher began taking down attendance and the students were quiet, Bill thought about the things he didn’t do. He felt hopeless and knew that Will would be dead, just like the rest of them.


	5. The Monster in the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven begins to try to find Will with the looming fear that feeds on her doubts.

As the morning began to dawn over Derry, the sun began to spread its light over the forest. The forest was what surrounded the entirety of Derry, covered by rivers and junkyards and along with it, the Barrens. However, far from the Barrens and close enough to the house of the Byers, was a Cabin hidden in the forest away from the town. 

The cabin was a small, wooden structure that was surrounded by strings wrapped around the trees, coming right back to the house where bells held onto it. The cabin looked fairly old for a wooden structure, still holding its shape after many years for being there.

In the cabin, a girl looked out into the window. She watched out the window, looking at the forest in deep thought. She was fairly pretty for a girl with her warm skin and brown curls. Her wide, brown eyes stared out into the forest as she sat on the dining room chair. The girl was named El and she, unlike many children born, wasn’t normal. 

For her entire life, she had been escaping ever since she was eleven and only then she could have a somewhat normal life. She still could not get a normal life because she could never go to school and she knows if anyone finds her here that she will have to continue running.

So, as she sat there, alone. She stared out into the forest dreaming of the life she could have. She dreamed of going to high school like all of the teen movies that she had seen on TV and having a boyfriend who would become the guy who would give her first kiss. It was a hope that she always wanted for herself and maybe, one day, she could have it. 

However, her daydreaming was soon interrupted when she heard the classical music that played on the radio begin to fade, revealing the news. El was going to ignore it, but she knew something was going on because it interrupted the song, meaning another disappearance.

“Today on Derry Local News, there has been another disappearance today. This is the hundred-sixteenth of the children missing since George Denbrough died in October and is almost becoming a year since his death,” The radio called out, alerting El. She stood up, walking over to the radio to hear closer about the missing child. “The missing child is Will Byers, a fourteen-year-old who lives on the outskirts of Derry beside the river and was found leaving Maple Street after a Dungeons and Dragons session before going home. He was seen wearing maple brown hair in a bowl cut and wore an orange and yellow vet with a raincoat. He was found missing at the Byers house when his brother found his missing at around midnight and shows signs that he was there, but had somehow disappeared without a trace. If you find him, please take him back to the Derry Police Department.” 

The voice of the radio stopped, immediately going back to the classical music that once played before. El placed her hand on the radio and turned the volume down. She had a bad feeling that something horrid was going to happen to whoever Will Byers was. 

El knew about the secret that lived in Derry. It was dark, just like the one where she was born in. However, in Derry, it was much worse. She knew that the murderer killing these children was a monster because she knew it was not human. El had known this since the first time trying to find It. She called It that because she did not know what else to call the monster murdering these children.

In hope, she walked over to the TV that was turned off. It was on the other side of the room, standing on a coffee table across from a very worn out chair. It was a fairly old TV, but it was the only thing that made her know about the world she lived in. 

El turned the TV on, immediately turning into a children’s show. She usually had to watch children’s shows to actually understand the usual things that Sheriff Hopper could not do when he was at work. Quickly, she pressed the buttons on the TV, changing the channels as she heard the sounds of sizzling food, chatter, screaming, and lastly, crying. She waited until she would find white noise. On the last channel, she heard the sounds of white noise, the crackling sound was almost a joy for El to hear.

She knew that she needed to find the child and maybe save him before It would kill him. She would save him by telling the Sheriff what was going on.

Quickly, she ran down the hall towards her room, bursting the door open in a loud bang. She headed to her nightstand, opening the drawer to reveal her things. She had many things in the drawer; sleeping pills, cigarettes that she had stolen from her father, batteries, a small radio, a super-com (only used to listen in on conversations of other kids who had a super-com as well), and, lastly, a dark bandana. She grabbed the bandana, holding the cloth tightly in her hand before leaving her empty wooden room. 

She entered into the living room and sat on the couch. She let out a deep breath, knowing that it would be hard seeing the torture that she had seen so many other children experience. She had tried saving so many children and she knew that if this one was alive, she would try saving it, even with the consequences of leaving this cabin. 

Closing her eyes, she put the bandana over her eyes and wrapped it around her head, tying it into a tight knot at the back of her hair. Darkness covered her entire vision, only hearing the static from the TV. She closed her eyes and her mind wandered into the void. She could sense someone, hidden below the surface of Derry, calling out for anyone to answer. 

When she opened her eyes, she was not in the cabin. The shallow water touched her feet to find herself in a dark world. Darkness surrounded her except for the small figure that sat almost miles apart from her. 

She honestly couldn’t see clearly on who it was, but she truly hoped that it was the boy that she was trying to save. She knew that she only had limited time and knew that if she did not go over there as fast as she could, she would not be able to save him.

El began walking through the shallow water in the direction of the figure in the distance. The sound of her feet in the water making a small splashing sound that made a ripple effect on the water around her. As she began getting closer and closer, she began to see the figure more closely until she was face to face with him. 

The figure, as she stood in front of him, was a boy who nervously fidgeted his hands as he huddled close to himself. Blood and muck covered his face and clothes. His breathing was shallow and fast and his bangs were covered in what seemed to be dried blood from a cut that touched the right side of his forehead. He looked small for his age, almost as small as herself who wore an orange and yellow vest over a raincoat and jeans. He was covered in cuts, some deeper than others which meant that he was escaping the monster right then.

This was him. This was Will Byers. A sigh of relief began to wash over El, but she knew that the nightmare was not over. If anything, she knew that she needed to get him out of there. 

“Well, hello there,” A voice erupted in the distance. The boy’s eyes widened, looking over at where the voice had come from. El turned, trying to see who the boy was looking at, but to her, there was no one there. 

Will’s expression became terrified, his face became pale with fear. He quickly stood up, his actions made him run in a direction and she could see that he was struggling to stay calm while he ran in panic. 

El tried to follow him, her curls bouncing while she ran. She saw the boy for the last time before he disappeared like smoke. She could hear him running, his breathless whimpers echoing through the darkness. 

She stopped herself in her tracks, feeling her heart beat rapidly. She knew that she needed to get out of here. She needed to tell her father where this boy was and find him before it was too late. As she was about to pull her bandana off her face, a voice called out, making her stop in her tracks. 

“Eleven?” A voice called out, one that she knew all too dearly. El’s breath quivered, knowing that the person was her worst regret in life. 

She turned, finding a small boy with a yellow raincoat and one arm stare at her. She knew who this was. Her hands began to shake as she stared at the small boy. 

“Eleven, why didn’t you save me?” The boy asked. His voice was innocent. 

El did not say a word. She did not like to be called by her true name. The name was dead to her, one that she did not want to hear in her ears ever again.

“I’m not Eleven,” She proclaimed, her voice echoing in the void.

“You know, when you are here, you’ll float too. Just like I did,” the young boy’s lips turned into a smile. “Come join us. We have fun here,” 

El noticed that the boy was getting closer towards her, slowly walking in each step. She began to take a few steps back. “I do not want to float,” 

“Then you will die-“ 

The void was immediately gone by the bright light of the sun. She had taken her bandana off before the worst would have become. El knew that It only wanted to trick her and knew that the only way they could have stopped was if she left. 

She slowly opened her eyes, wincing at the brightness. It had only been a few minutes, but it was enough to make her feel like she was blind. She let out a sigh, not wanting to think about the memory of the death of George Denbrough. Slowly, El felt a liquid slowly fall down her nose and before it would do anything else, she wiped it on her sleeve. She did not know this, but on her sleeve, the flannel was stained in blood.

She let out a deep breath and stood up, feeling drain before heading to the telephone to call the Sheriff. The telephone was placed in between the hallway, living room, and the kitchen. It hung on the wall, colored in a bright tan that wasn’t pale like cream. She walked to the phone, remembering her father’s work number and dialed the number with her shaky hand. She placed the phone on her ear once she had finished dialing the number and waiting for her father to answer.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, someone answered the call. “Hello, this is the secretary of the Derry Police. Who am I speaking to?” The voice was one of an old woman, but El knew who it was because she had heard her voice too many times to remember. 

“Flo, can I talk to Hopper?” El asked in a shaky voice, playing with the cord with her finger. “It’s El,” She never really used the phone because talking to people was a struggle for her. It was a new world than what she survived in when she was younger. 

“Oh yes, of course, El. He’s been fairly busy talking to Principals and the Mayor about what to do with these missing kids, but he will probably stop his work for you. Give me a second,” Flo replied as the line was gone for a few seconds before the call came back. 

The caller answered the phone and El knew it was Hopper because he let out a sigh. 

“El, why are you calling me? I already have Will Byers’ mother on the other line,” Sheriff Hopper grumbled. She almost felt like she could smell the smoke as the man exhaled through the phone. 

“Hopper, I found him,” El pleaded in a panicked voice. “You need to help him. He’s hurt and-“

“I can’t, El,” Hopper interrupted her. “I’m too busy with the case about these dead ids that once I leave here, I’ll be in big trouble,” 

“Then maybe I’ll go,” El said softly. “I can find him,” 

“You are not going to find him. You know the rules,” 

“But he’s hurt, Hopper,” 

“No!” Hopper yelled through the call. El felt her insides shiver, feeling tears well up in her eyes before blinking them out of rage. “You are to stay in the house and not use your… your talents without my permission,” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Then you’re grounded, El. No TV or radios. You will just sit in your room and stay there until I come,” Hopper replied with a sigh. El could feel himself become more frustrated. “I… I’m only doing the best I can for you, El. If they find you, I cannot do anything to stop them,” 

El let out a deep breath, nodding. “But they have not found me for years,” 

“Anything can happen, El,” Hopper replied. “Whether you like it or not,” 

“Then when are you going to find him?”

“Tonight, maybe around when we have dinner,” El frowned as Hopper muttered those words. She would be starving by then.

“At eight-fifteen?” El asked with a sad tone. 

“I know, kiddo, but it's all I can really do,” Hopper explained.

“Then why can’t you let me find him? I know where he is,” El pleaded. “Just please let me find him,” 

Hopper began to laugh through the phone. It was a chuckle that El always thought reminded Hopper of a bear. The man's laugh was short before sighing. El could almost see him shaking his head while he spoke. “You’re so stubborn, El,” Then a voice erupted through the distance from the other side. El could not hear the voice, but she could hear Hopper saying that he would be there in a second. “Sorry, El. I have to go to a meeting at the school. Do not go outside, do not open the curtains, do not open the doors, and do not do anything stupid. Got it?” He explained to his girl quickly. 

El nodded as she held the phone. “Promise,”

“Good,” Then the call ended. She placed the phone in its place before staring at the door. Four locks were put on the door so that the locks would stay. They were the only thing keeping her locked from the outside world, the thing that only Hopper could unlock. She knew that her mind was in a battle for what she should do and trusted her gut. 

Slowly, her mind unlocked one of the locks, making a click sound for what she had done. A soft smile spread across her face because she knew of the mission she was going to be accomplishing.

Oh, she would be in so much trouble for what she was going to do.


End file.
